


The Bounty Hunter(s) and the Serket(s)

by originalPseudonym



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, F/F, POV Second Person, Quadrant Vacillation, Slow Burn, also vriska was raised by humans but she's still Vriska(tm), i Cannot Be Bothered to do extensive worldbuilding tho, i'm just here for the gay shit, not that I give a flying fuck about quadrants, trolls and humans live together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-15 19:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalPseudonym/pseuds/originalPseudonym
Summary: You suppose that being kidnapped is not the most awful of things that could have happened to you. But being kidnapped and dragged across the continent by a bounty hunter while another, shittier bounty hunter chases after her, and subsequently you? Probably among the most awful of things, if you’re being perfectly fucking honest.-Terezi and Karkat are bounty hunters. Vriska just wants to go home.





	1. Chapter 1

You suppose that being kidnapped is not the most awful of things that could have happened to you. But being kidnapped and dragged across the continent by a bounty hunter while another, shittier bounty hunter chases after her, and subsequently you? Probably among the most awful of things, if you’re being perfectly fucking honest.  
  
It starts with a “too slow, asshole” - or rather, it starts about four minutes before the bounty hunter (the shitty one) tried to grab you-  
  
Okay, so maybe that isn’t the beginning either. Perhaps you should backtrack a little, and stop freaking the fuck out.  
  
Your name is Vriska Serket. You’re a troll who grew up with human parents, which is just fine. They’re okay, but it’s a little tricky to relate to them sometimes.  
  
You have about three and a half friends on a good day. Your best friend is John Egbert, and he’s likely looking for you right now.

You hope.  
  
You and John went to the same school together for about 7 sweeps, and he’s been in at least one of your classes every sweep since. You and John are both 8 - or 17, if you want to be a loser about it - which means your compulsory education ended earlier this year. You had only been out of school for a couple days when John managed to get himself enrolled at some prestigious film-making school.  
  
You, on the other hand - well. School has never been your strong suit. You managed to score an internship at this tech place down the street (only thanks to Roxy, but you’ll never admit that out loud), so at least you're doing something. You take the subway to and from work every day, mostly because walking through the city is a pain in the ass - especially as a troll in a heavily human-populated area.  
  
It's on the subway that all this crazy shit starts - as far as you're concerned, anyway.  
  
So there you are, minding your own fucking business, and the business of the human seated a few seats down. You’re trying to hear his recounting of a fight between his sister and their estranged father when the bounty hunter sits down next to you. The other, shittier bounty hunter, that is.  
  
His horns are very unimpressive, you note. He keeps squinting at you with his red eyes like you've pissed him off.

You reach up to wipe your mouth in case you managed to go the whole goddamn day with your lunch on your face, but your hand comes back clean. Maybe he’s just not happy about being out in the middle of the day - you don’t know many trolls who are as good at not being nocturnal as you are. Could be the constant exposure to humans and human-culture, you suppose.  
  
You start to ask him why the hell he’s staring at you like a moron, and that’s when he grabs the lanyard with your work ID around your neck. You like the ID - it makes you feel like you’re doing something important for once in your life - and this guy has it in between his stubby fingers, his eyes narrowed in intense examination.  
  
“What the fuck,” you say. You sound more confused than anything, probably because you can’t process what’s happening quick enough to be angry or annoyed or even scared, any of which might be more appropriate emotions in the given circumstances.  
  
It’s when he pulls out the handcuffs that you have a stronger reaction.  
  
He grabs for your hand this time, but you’re not going to let that happen. Your first thought isn’t _what did I do?_ \- no, your first thought is _run_ , so that’s exactly what you do.  
  
The bounty hunter obviously isn’t a local, because he didn’t plan his capture very well. Either that or he just didn’t account for your attempted escape, which, to put it lightly, is really fucking stupid.  
  
You know as soon as you jump out of your seat and start for the next car that the subway will stop again in roughly thirty seconds. So you have to avoid this guy for thirty seconds, and then you can just slip out the doors and up the stairs and into the bustling streets of the city. Perfect.  
  
Except it isn’t really all that perfect. You’re running and actually kind of screaming, because while the bounty hunter doesn’t look all that impressive, you’re not all that impressive yourself. Although you have a decent amount of height on you, your arms look like they could snap like twigs. Your lack of physical capabilities has never really been an issue until now, when you’re being chased by a fucking bounty hunter through the cars of a subway.  
  
Despite your screams, no one helps you - probably because you’re being completely unintelligible. You’re likely only pissing them off, actually, especially with how you keep pushing humans out of the way in order to get past them.  
  
But you manage. The subway comes to a stop, and the doors slide open after a brief delay. You nearly run right into the jackass who was standing in front of the doors in preparation for getting on the car. You ask him for help. You run off after receiving a long, slightly frightened stare.  
  
Once you’re above ground, you immediately begin looking for a police officer - because at least if the troll that you’re running away from is actually a cop himself, that much would become clear. As soon as you’re in the crowd, however, all notions of finding someone to help you disappear. There are hundreds of humans around you, and you remember where you are; no one is going to help you here.  
  
You run toward your apartment, or at least the general direction of it, but it’s still a few blocks away and your sides are burning. You risk a glance over your shoulder, finding that the bounty hunter has made his way back into your line of sight. His short, stubby legs are managing to propel him forward with a worrying amount of speed.  
  
You use the last of your willpower to sprint ahead, taking a sharp turn at the next corner when the traffic light changes unexpectedly. An alley nearly passes on your left, but you cut into it at the last second. You desperately hope that the bounty hunter didn’t see you enter the alley, because your heart is beating so fast that you don’t think you’ll be able to run again for another year. You hurry over to the only decently-sized object in sight - a dumpster. You hide, nearly collapsing behind it.  
  
You count to ten, then twenty, then thirty. When you reach seventy, you cautiously glance over the top of the dumpster. There isn’t a bounty hunter in sight, so you stand up and lean against the wall.  
  
You relax, and that’s your mistake.  
  
Next thing you know, he’s standing at the end of the alley, his face scrunched up into a scowl. He’s stalking toward you in the time it takes you to blink, and you stumble away from your hiding spot. In your very sudden and very acute panic, you run to the end of the alley. The stretch of pavement is very clearly cut off by a brick wall at its end, but it’s not like you have anywhere else to go. You are yelling in the meantime, because that is what you tend to do when there are no other options.  
  
When you turn back to the shitty bounty hunter, he looks pissed the fuck off.  
  
“Too slow, asshole,” he says - or you think he says. You're busy listening to your own heart beat.  
  
That’s when he shoves a rag in your face. It’s soaked in some chemical if the smell is anything to go by, and once you realize this, you _really_ start freaking out.  
  
But even as you’re kicking and punching and trying to hold your breath, you can feel the fight leaving you. The alleyway starts to tilt. You don’t know you’re falling to the ground until your back hits pavement, and even then, you’re dazed.  
  
The bounty hunter stands over you, reaching for his handcuffs once again. You can’t move. Your vision is blurry and unreliable, despite the fact that your glasses are somehow still on your face.  
  
It’s then that she comes out of the sky like a goddamn superhero, landing solidly on her feet behind the other bounty hunter. She has him knocked out with one strong, smooth swipe of the cane she’s holding in her right hand.  
  
_Holy shit_ , you think, and then you pass out.

* * *

When you come to, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of a decade-old car. It takes you a while to orient yourself enough to come to this conclusion, and it takes you even longer to realize that one of your hands - your metal one - is cuffed to the handle above the door.  
  
Once you fully understand this, you start flipping the fuck out.  
  
The girl (who you quickly figure out is not a superhero, but in fact another bounty hunter) had been driving, and she nearly swerves off the road.

You probably startled her.  
  
She swears, straightening the steering wheel. When you start yelling, she finally turns her head toward you, appearing far more annoyed than anything else.  
  
You start swatting your free hand at her face. She makes an impatient clicking noise with her tongue before slamming your arm back forcefully, twisting it in a way that arms should not be twisted. As much as it hurts, it doesn’t put an end to your panicked efforts.  
  
You can see the clench of her jaw when she reaches over and holds your wrist still in a tight grip. Using her free hand, she pulls over to the shoulder of the near-empty highway she’d been driving on.  
  
She releases your wrist as soon as the car is parked, still without saying a word. You try to angle yourself so you can kick her, both of your hands gripping the handle above the door in search for leverage. You’re not exactly sure what you’re trying to accomplish, but it’s clear that your previous flailing wasn’t going to accomplish _anything_.  
  
You try to unbuckle your seat belt, but the angle won’t allow for it. Not that it matters, because the sight you’re greeted with makes you stop completely, and almost shit your pants.  
  
She's unbuckled her own seat belt and has drawn out a blade from her cane. It is aimed in a worrying direction - namely, in the direction of your fucking face.  
  
She shows no emotion other than mild irritation. It’s then that you notice that she’s blind, and that you’re probably going insane. A blind bounty hunter has taken you captive and was driving no less than thirty seconds ago. What the fuck.  
  
“Listen,” she says, and you do.  
  
She clears her throat before speaking again. “There’s a bounty on you, for you to be delivered dead or alive. The former option would provide a decent enough payout, and I’m fine with living outside the lap of luxury,” she says, and her voice is a high, scratchy thing. Another thing you notice: her teeth look like they could rip you to shreds. “So I suggest you quit being stupid!”  
  
You still haven’t retracted your leg from where it lies sprawled out over the console, so you decide to do that. You sit up slowly, eyes trained on her cane-sword-thing the entire time.  
  
Your thoughts aren’t moving as fast as you want them to, but you do manage to get one thing sorted out: there must have been some sort of mix up. You have done a few illegal things, sure, and you have made a couple of enemies, you admit, but you don’t think you've done anything to get a legitimate bounty put on your head. You open your mouth to calmly explain all this to the girl threatening you with a sharp weapon.  
  
However, instead of anything sensible coming out of your mouth, you only force out the word _bounty_.  
  
“Yes,” she says, answering a question you hadn’t really asked.  
  
“But I didn’t do anything!”  
  
Apparently convinced that you’re done trying to kick her in the face, she sheathes her weapon.

"I don’t care,” she says, and she starts the car, pulls onto the road, and continues driving.

* * *

You’re not comfortable. You’re decidedly _uncomfortable_ , to be perfectly fucking honest. Your wrist is raw from the handcuff chafing against it, your back and neck hurt like crazy, and your stomach won’t stop voicing its discontent over the lack of food in it. You don’t say anything about your stomach to the bounty hunter, because you’re sure she can hear it even over the rumbling of the engine (and because you’re starting to become embarrassed about losing your cool earlier. You’re trying to get some of your pride back).  
  
You go back to reflecting. It doesn’t take you long to go through the list of every significantly horrible thing you’ve ever done, since all of that shit happened in the span of a week. Pulling all those skeletons out of the closet makes you want to vomit all over the floor of the car, but you don’t think that it has anything to do with your present situation. You were removed from responsibility in court, even if you shouldn’t have been. So it’s not that. Bounty hunters need to maintain some sense of legality, unless they want to wind up in jail themselves.  
  
You still think there’s been a mistake - there’s no debt you owe, there’s no violence you’ve enacted that hasn’t been repaid in full - as far as the law is concerned.  
  
And you’re down an arm. You may have a metal one in its place, but you think it was enough to pay your dues.  
  
Deciding that a plan might come in handy, since clearly (while you are pretty great), you’re not infamous enough to warrant a bounty. You’re going to wait until you can escape, and then you’re going to call the cops. As much as you hate the idea of police, it’s not like you have many other options. You’ll explain your situation, and they’ll look up your name in whatever the fuck database they use to keep track of approved bounties and bounty hunters. They’ll find no bounty on you, and even if they do for some reason, the police and bounty hunters don’t tend to get along too well. They’ll take you home to your parents.  
  
Having wholly convinced yourself of your favorable fate, you study the girl who has wrongly abducted you.  
  
She is still very much blind, as far as you can tell, and she sniffs the air incessantly. It would annoy you if you didn’t have a million other things to be annoyed about.  
  
You decide that you’re probably not actually going insane, because in light of the fact that you can control certain troll's minds on a good day, her abilities as a blind girl aren’t really that impressive.  
  
She’s shorter than you, but not by much, and she’s probably got at least 10 pounds of sheer muscle mass over you. You can’t think of any word to describe her other than _angular_. Her horns aren’t much taller than the other bounty hunter’s, but hers at least come to a point. Her eyes behind her glasses are red all over, but you think she’s teal blooded, judging by her clothes.  
  
You can look at her all you want, but you don’t know her name, and she won’t tell you. Every question asked is met with silence or a noncommittal hum. You think you see an upturn of her mouth every once in a while, like she’s some kind of fucking sadist.  
  
No, you don’t know her name. You don’t know where you are, or where she’s taking you. But, on the bright side, she hasn’t made any more slightly disguised threats to kill you since the first.  
  
An impressive eight minutes of silence pass before you say, “I have to go to the bathroom.” You aren’t lying, but you do have an ulterior motive. The bounty hunter likely gathers this.  
  
You know that not too many people are willing to risk it when bathroom breaks are involved. Despite this, she still fails to respond to you. You don’t even get a hum this time, which actually manages to piss you off.  
  
You clear your throat and try to speak up a little louder. “I have to-”  
  
“I heard you,” she says, her head facing the road.  
  
You sink back in your seat, closing your eyes. You are having a bit - _just a fucking bit_ \- of trouble keeping your agitation at bay.  
  
_Well_ , you think, _if she wants me to pee in her car, I’ll pee in her car_.

* * *

You don’t pee in her car because she ends up taking the next exit off the highway. The blue sign labeled _rest area_ is the only sign you have seen so far with a recognizable name.  
  
She parks her car several spaces away from the other vehicles that are there. Speaking no words to you, she gets out of the car and walks around to open the passenger door. You try not to look too excited when you see the keys to the cuffs in her hand.  
  
“You don’t have anywhere to hide out here!” she warns you, sounding entirely too happy about it. “You won’t find hives for another ten miles at least, and you wouldn’t make it that far before I catch you. And, even if you did, most people don’t like to get in between bounty hunters and their bounties.”  
  
She flashes her piranha smile at you. You hold your breath.  
  
Leaning in the car, she unlocks the handcuff around your wrist deftly and leaves the cuff attached to the handle untouched. “So don’t try anything,” she concludes, a beat too late. “Remember what I said about your wanted status.”  
  
You really don’t need the reminder, nor do you appreciate it. “Fuck you,” you say.  
  
She _laughs at you_. You might actually try to kill her. Before you can do that, however, she steps back to give you some room.  
  
You try to get out of the car quickly, but your legs have other plans - the first step out of the car doesn’t stick, and you pretty much tumble out of the door and land flat on your ass.  
  
Faster than you are able to track, the bounty hunter rushes toward you, one hand flying out to grip your shoulder. It doesn’t help much, considering you’re already on the ground.  
  
Her tight grip on your shoulder actually hurts more than the fall itself, but before you can say anything, she is already hauling you up by the arm.  
  
“Be careful,” she says, pushing you in the direction of the bathroom.  
  
The restrooms are on the side of the structure that is closest to the car - and so is the giant bulletin board with the tiny map pressed behind its glass. You try not to make your intentions painfully obvious when you kneel down to fuss over your already-tied shoe.  
  
Your eyesight has never been fantastic - you’re missing an eye, after all, and the one that you do have is kind of fucking terrible. The angle makes it worse. The map doesn’t outline any territories or landmarks definitively either, so you can’t even begin to guess where you are.  
  
Next to you, you hear a sigh. Trying not to bristle, you turn your head to meet the bounty hunter’s gaze. She can’t be any older than you, but she wears a scowl like she’s been doing it for decades.  
  
“You aren’t subtle,” she observes.  
  
She gestures for you to get off the ground once she has cut off your defensive sputtering with a wave of her hand. You get up, but she doesn't push you toward the bathroom.  
  
You look between her and the map, uncertain. She makes no move to stop you, and you’re not going to spend time questioning her dumb decisions.  
  
Turning away from her, you face the board. The top left of the map lets you know where you are - a vaguely familiar territory, but one you recognize as troll country. That explains why you didn’t recognize any of the towns or landmarks. Your family has always stuck to the eastern coast of the continent, which has many more humans than trolls. And now you are not on the east coast anymore.  
  
“Jesus fuck,” you say.  
  
Your soreness is starting to make a little more sense. You turn back to the bounty hunter, because-  
  
“We’ve been driving for _hours_ ,” you say. You’re a little proud when your voice drips with anger and not distress.  
  
“Yes,” she says, “nine of them. It could have been more, but I did have to sleep for a bit.”  
  
Nine hours. You are nine hours away from your home, and you’ve been gone for longer than that, apparently. John is probably pissed, because you had promised that you would come over and play video games with him after work. Instead, you are in a place you have never been, in the custody of a bounty hunter who hasn’t made any effort to listen to you when you try to explain how much of a mistake this all is.  
  
“Oh my god,” you say, sitting on the ground and putting your face in your hands. “Oh my fucking god.”  
  
Above you, the bounty hunter clears her throat. “Get up,” she says.  
  
You shake your head into your palms. “Fuck you,” you say, and then she’s jerking you upward by your arm, tearing your hands away from your face in the process.  
  
“Go to the bathroom,” she commands, more than a bit irritated.  
  
You think about punching her in the face. Instead, you walk toward the bathroom.  
  
Once you reach the building, the bounty hunter nods to the door.  
  
“I’m not going into those…facilities,” she says. “I have a very sensitive nose!”  
  
Not the smartest thing for a bounty hunter to do, though you don’t exactly blame her. Upon entering the room, the smell that hits you is close to unbearable.  
  
Covering your nose, the first thing you do is walk the perimeter of the bathroom - a process that takes less than two seconds. It’s just one row of stalls, with sinks and mirrors on the other side. There is one window in the bathroom, located on the back wall and opposite the door. It’s too high and small to climb through.  
  
You walk down the aisle between the stalls and sinks once more, this time searching every stall as well. You find abso-fucking-lutely nothing.  
  
Your frustrated sigh echoes off the walls; you need to think of something else. But, in the meantime, you really did need to pee.  
  
Unsurprisingly, there still isn’t anything useful in the bathroom after you take care of business. You start to panic a little - you know that you don’t have much time, and even in the two long minutes you take to wash your hands, you can’t think of a plan.  
  
The mirror in front of you is old and scratched. You may be able to break it and use a shard to - you don’t know, stab the bounty hunter, you guess - but you could just as easily break your hand. Plus, the bounty hunter will hear.  
  
Your hands shoot down to your pockets as a thought occurs to you - but just as soon as the hope comes, it’s gone. You should've known that she'd taken your phone.  
  
Just then, you hear a knock at the door. “I can hear you walking around in there like an idiot,” she says. “Come on out.”  
  
You grip the edge of the grimy sink and look around wildly. Finding nothing - what a surprise - you turn back to the sink, deciding to take a chance.  
  
You punch the mirror. It does not break.  
  
The cry of pain gets stuck in your throat - all that comes out is a strangled groan. You should’ve used your metal hand.

Your groan is enough to alert the bounty hunter, though. Bursting through the door, she has her hands at her side, like she’s ready to unsheathe her cane-sword-thing. Quickly realizing that there is no threat awaiting her in the bathroom, she stares at you, bewildered. You cradle your swollen hand.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” she demands. You don’t have much of an answer for her.  
  
Annoyance is fresh on her face when she stalks over to you and grabs you by the arm. You’re still cradling your hand by the time you get to the car, but you don’t really have anyone to blame but yourself for that one.

* * *

The clock in the car reads 2:24. It was one o’clock in the afternoon when you woke up, so it is easy to guess that the bounty hunter had eaten while you were unconscious, and probably wouldn’t eat for another few hours.

Not that her eating would have guaranteed anything for you - it occurs to you that she may not have any plans to feed you at all. You wonder if she is just starving you to death. She doesn’t need you alive, after all.  
  
The thought kind of makes you want to scream. Regardless, your stomach aches painfully. You clutch at it with your free hand, trying not to groan. If she’s going to starve you to death, so be it. You’re not going to be a chump about it.  
  
The bounty hunter glances over at you, but it isn’t clear whether or not you had actually made a noise. You wince.

That frown of hers deepens. “What’s wrong?” she asks, looking a bit nervous. “Are you hurt?”  
  
You must look confused by her urgency, because her face quickly smooths over into something close to indifference. “Well?”  
  
“I’m fucking hungry,” you say, deciding that you _are_ going to be a chump about it, actually. “I haven’t eaten in 25 hours.”  
  
She blinks at your response, like it hadn’t even occurred to her. Eyes trained on the road, she opens the center console and rummages around until she finds what she’s looking for.  
  
In her hands is a bag of dehydrated beef. You make a face, because, gross.  
  
She furrows her eyebrows when you don’t take the bag from her offering hand. “Are you allergic?” she asks.  
  
“No,” you answer, offended. “I don’t have _allergies_. I just don’t like awful food.”  
  
She scowls before tossing the bag at you.  
  
You take it, albeit reluctantly. You’re definitely hungry enough to eat it, no matter how gross you think it is.  
  
It isn’t until later that you’d wonder why someone who doesn’t care whether you live or die is so concerned about allergies.

* * *

Sleeping in a chair while handcuffed to a nearby radiator is a pretty shitty experience, overall.  
  
The bounty hunter had fallen asleep an hour ago. The bed she claimed honestly didn’t look much more comfortable than the chair you’re seated in, but she has the luxury of a free range of movement. You have no such luxury, being handcuffed to a radiator, and all.  
  
You fucking hate your life so much right now.  
  
Looking around the motel room, her words about being content to live outside of luxury come back to you. This place certainly isn’t luxurious, or hygienic. And if _you_ are noticing stuff about hygiene, then something really must be wrong.  
  
Despite the room's less-than-savory conditions, the bounty hunter had fallen asleep almost immediately. You can hear her even breathing from where you are seated, but all you can see of her is a lump under the blankets.  
  
You can’t foresee yourself falling asleep any time soon. You consider taking a chance and yelling for help, but by this point, you have nearly given up on being rescued. The receptionist in the lobby hadn’t even blinked when you tried to tell him that you were wrongfully captured. The bounty hunter hadn’t blinked, either - she _did_ look a little annoyed, but that was probably because you were yelling in her ear.  
  
Still seated in the chair, you tug your arm away from the radiator for what is not the first time. And, like every other time, your hand is stopped by the handcuff that is secured around it.  
  
You survey the room in the dark. You wonder why the bounty hunter sleeps during the night - you doubt she has human parents like you do.  
  
There is nothing in arms reach; the bounty hunter made sure of that. There is a dresser and a TV a couple of feet away from the bed, which you are looking at from across the room. The bathroom is to your right, the door to the room itself on your left.  
  
Nothing to aid you in your escape.  
  
The way you’re seated in relation to the radiator allows for little movement. The radiator is behind the chair, so your arm is stretched backward to accommodate this. You can stand up, but only if you move over the arm of the chair. So that’s what you do.  
  
Facing the radiator now, you kneel down and examine your handcuffed wrist. It’s tightly secured, but you still make an attempt to narrow your hand and slide it through. That doesn’t work, and you figure that - unless you feel like breaking a few knuckles - it never will. You wish she had cuffed your metal wrist - you wouldn’t be so hesitant to break _those_ knuckles. But maybe she thought of that.  
  
You bend down some more to see if there is anything that got behind the chair somehow. There’s nothing there and you try not to scream.  
  
You hear a noise from across the room. It’s not really a cause for alarm - all the bounty hunter did was sigh heavily in her sleep - but it still catches you off guard. You stand up too fast, only to get stopped by the handcuff you momentarily forgot about.  
  
Your wrist pops, and you let out a surprised yelp. Your free hand immediately snaps up to cover your mouth, but the damage has been done.  
  
The bounty hunter springs out of bed. With how fast she moves, you don’t even see her unsheathing the sword next to the bed until it’s held up defensively.  
  
You try to hold up both your hands to show that you do not wish to fucking die right now, but your hand gets caught on the metal again. It hurts much more the second time, and a curse flies from your lips.  
  
The bounty hunter points the sword in your direction, but she quickly gathers that it’s just you and her in the room. She lowers the weapon warily, tired and annoyed.  
  
You should think of some sort of explanation for why you are awake and standing up, but you’re kind of stuck on the fact that she _really_ doesn’t wear a lot of clothes to bed.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
You’re still standing there, bent down at an awkward angle. “Um,” you say.  
  
Her mouth thins. “Sit down,” she commands, “And quit making so much noise. I’m trying to sleep.”  
  
You glare at her retreating back, furious. “Oh, am I bothering you?” you snap as she settles back down on the bed. “Sorry! I didn’t realize I was being ungrateful. You were nice enough to fucking kidnap me, after all!”  
  
“You don’t _really_ think that this is all a mistake do you?” she asks. Her voice is low and not without a few cracks - she isn’t as awake as you had suspected. You manage to disregard how interesting her voice sounds, because you have other things to worry about.  
  
“Yes,” you answer after a beat, “I do.”  
  
Her expression is hard to read in the dark, and it doesn’t give enough away for you to guess at what she’s feeling. “Sor-”  
  
She clears her throat. Tries again. She says, “There is no mistake, Vriska.”  
  
Your stomach drops. It’s the first time she’s said your name, you realize. With your name comes the implication that she really does have who she was looking for. With your name comes panic.  
  
Looking back, thinking that you were being chased by two different bounty hunters simply because of a misunderstanding was rather naive of you.  
  
For the first time, you start to consider that you were very, very wrong.  
  
“Let me go,” you demand, but the bounty hunter has already turned away from you. You must have sounded incredibly panicked though, because you can see her shoulder muscles tighten. “Let me go,” you say again.  
  
“I can’t do that,” she says without turning around. There is a bit more clarity in her voice, but she still sounds tired.  
  
You try to take a measured breath, but it catches in your throat. “At least tell me what I did,” you manage.  
  
“You didn’t do anything,” she responds, resigned. “Not this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! 
> 
> This was adapted from a novel that I wrote (novella? it was 40k words). I'm basically a reverse EL James. I figured it would be better suited on ao3 than sitting on my computer forever like everything else I write. 
> 
> That being said, this work may be a bit OOC - it was originally written with other characters in mind. I've changed the characterization as best I can, but I'm sure there are things wrong with it. 
> 
> This will update FOR SURE on Mondays and Fridays. The only exception to that might be this Friday. I'll hopefully update on Wednesdays too, if I manage to proofread in time. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! I'm on tumblr @ dreamerofderse.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, you are given the opportunity to shower. The bounty hunter even uncuffs your hands for the occasion, without any threats at all.  
  
Her temporary benevolence - or half-decency, you should say - might be related to the fact that you haven’t spoken since you were first shaken awake by her. The silence really is unusual; you never realize how much time you spend talking until you finally decide to shut the fuck up.  
  
She has all her stuff together (which consists of a single duffel bag) when you step out of the bathroom. It’s too early - _way_ too early for you - and she must notice your exhaustion.  
  
“It’s a long way west,” she says. An explanation for the early hour, but not an explanation for your mode of travel.  
  
“Why don’t we fly?” you ask. It’s the first thing you’ve said all morning, but she still doesn’t answer you.  
  
You roll your eyes at her silence. “What?” you ask. “Would telling me reveal part of your evil plan?”  
  
She purses her lips at your comment. “It’s no plan of mine.”  
  
“Fuck you,” you say, and instead of hardening, her expression inexplicably softens.  
  
“Flying with a bounty is a paperwork-laden nightmare,” she says after a moment’s hesitation. “We can’t afford that kind of time or attention.”  
  
“Says who?”  
  
Your harsh, angry tone has never really gotten you anywhere in life, but for whatever reason, something close to pity passes over the bounty hunter's face. It’s kind of really pissing you off, because the only reason you’re in this situation is because of her.  
  
“Says the one who put out the bounty on you,” she answers.  
  
“And you didn’t object to that?” you demand.  
  
The pity dissipates, and she looks at you like you're the dumbest troll that's ever walked the planet. “I don’t ask questions beyond what I need to know,” she says. “Though, if it makes you feel better, I have confidence that you will be alive once all is said and done - as long as you don’t do anything stupid!”

* * *

By the time you two head to the motel lobby to check out, you are handcuffed once again.  
  
The man at the counter - human, sickly, pale; you're back out of troll country, now - is the same one that was there when you checked in last night, so his shift is bound to be ending soon. He looks a bit tired, but his eyes are sharp as you walk up.  
  
“Hey, troll-lady,” he says, once the bounty hunter has turned in the key to the room. Her back straightens, but all she does to acknowledge him is give a nod.  
  
A little put out, he clears his throat before saying, “A friend of mine called me last night. Works at the corner store down the street. Apparently, he had some guy asking if anyone interesting came through town.”  
  
You’re standing beside and slightly behind the bounty hunter, but you can still see the clench of her jaw. “Is that so?” she asks, not sounding particularly interested in his answer.  
  
“Yeah,” he responds. You can tell that he’s losing his nerve, but he manages to keep a threatening tone to his voice nonetheless. “My buddy was telling me that the guy said something about a young troll bounty hunter and her bounty.”  
  
The bounty hunter hums. “And what did you tell your buddy?”  
  
She’s on edge. You are too, and it is difficult for you to understand why - you just figure that, even though you would be stuck being carted around by a bounty hunter regardless of who was doing the carting, you can tell that the one standing next to you isn’t going to hurt you.

Probably.  
  
The man in front of you sniffs. “I didn’t tell my buddy nothing,” he answers. He taps once on the surface of the desk that he’s standing at. “He did leave me a number, though. To call the guy - in case I saw anything.”  
  
Below his finger lies a piece of paper with the clean, unmistakable digits of a phone number written in blocky numbers.  
  
The bounty hunter doesn’t respond. He taps the paper again, but his hand shakes and his lip quivers.  
  
“You could spare me some change,” he suggests, voice cracking a little. “It might persuade me against dialing this number and giving your friend a tip.”  
  
"I could do that,” she says, sneering. “Or I could break your fingers off and force-feed them to you.”  
  
You instinctively start to back away, but the bounty hunter's arm shoots out and she holds you in place by your shoulder. She glances back, a clear warning on her face.  
  
The man swallows. He looks like he’s about to bolt - or shit his pants. But before he can do either of those things, the bounty hunter reaches into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulls out her wallet. She makes a show of counting four bills. At least two of them are hundreds, but the other two escape your sight.  
  
She all but throws the cash at him, and he sweeps the bills up after some fumbling.  
  
“Thank you,” he says, careful. “I’ll be sure to remember your generosity.”  
  
She turns away from him without responding, leading you away from the lobby and out the door with a hand on your back. She loads the car wordlessly and gestures for you to get in, holding the passenger door open.  
  
You stand there, mouth agape.  
  
“Get in the car.”  
  
“I thought you were going to kill him!” you say, your voice embarrassingly high.  
  
She smiles a little in that unsettling way of hers. “Me too!” she says. “Now get in the car.”

* * *

It was a peculiarly warm day when you were taken by the bounty hunter, which means that you weren’t wearing a jacket.

Unfortunately for you, the winter chill is really starting to become apparent as you move inland. You even saw snow on the ground in the last town you passed.  
  
The bounty hunter hasn’t turned the heat up yet - only enough to de-ice the windows. Her teal blood is not a huge difference as far as the hemospectrum goes, but enough to bump up her body temperature a few precious degrees. Her jacket is no doubt helping the process.  
  
You’re shivering by midday. Your traveling partner eventually takes notice, and while she doesn’t ask you if you’re cold, her hand travels to the heating dial.  
  
“Thanks,” you say, gruff and reluctant. She doesn’t respond - she only shrugs off her jacket and lets it rest between her back and the seat. You roll your eyes before allowing them to travel away from her and out the window, barely registering the road signs that you pass by.  
  
You figure that it won’t take long to get to your final destination. You’ve never been directionally oriented, but you’ve been desperately trying to pay attention for once in your goddamn life.  
  
The bounty hunter had mentioned going west and not much else. Even if you two are headed to the west coast, it won't take more than four days.  
  
When she gets on the highway, however, she doesn't continue west for long - soon you’re heading southbound.  
  
“Wait,” you say, “Where are we going?”  
  
Her eyes remain on the road. “The same place we were going to begin with.”  
  
You frown. “I thought we were going west.”  
  
Your words seem to catch her off guard - she must not remember mentioning that earlier. You try not to look as smug as you feel.  
  
Eventually, she responds, “Karkat was tracking us.” When she glances over and catches your confused expression, she closes her eyes and breathes out a sigh, likely frustrated with herself. “Karkat is the troll you met on the subway.”  
  
“The other bounty hunter?” you ask. Your head is starting to hurt. “What the fuck is going on with that, anyway?”  
  
She doesn’t provide an answer, but you aren’t expecting one at this point. You shift in your seat, trying in vain to position yourself in a manner that is at least halfway-comfortable. Your arm is still cuffed to the handle above the door.  
  
“We’re taking a little detour,” she tells you. “I’m not quite sure how he’s tracking us. If you see anything or anyone that looks out of place, it’s in your best interest to let me know.”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
“The end result is going to be the same for you regardless,” she admits. “But I can tell you that if you took this journey with Karkat, it would be a lot less pleasant.”  
  
“Pleasant,” you echo. You shake your right arm, tugging at the handle above the door in the process. “Fucking pleasant.”  
  
“I never said that you were having a good time,” she says.  
  
You stare at her, because something just isn’t adding up. “What did you mean when you said that the result will be the same for me no matter who I’m with?” you ask. “Were you and Karkat hired by the same person? Why is he getting in your way?”  
  
The split-second flash of surprise on the bounty hunter’s face tells you that she wasn’t expecting you to question that. She glances out the driver’s side window, studiously ignoring your question. You are beginning to - or rather, once again beginning to - become fed up with the lack of answers.  
  
“I don’t understand why you can’t tell me a little more,” you bite out. “I have no idea where you’re taking me - the least you could do is not ignore me all the fucking time.”  
  
That has her scoffing and gripping the wheel a bit tighter. “I don’t owe you anything,” she says.  
  
“I don’t even know your name,” you growl. “I don’t know anything at all about you or where I’m going! I shouldn’t even be here.”  
  
“I told you,” she says, “there is no mistake. You’re here for a reason.”  
  
“Yeah, a reason that you won’t tell me!” you shout, and she flinches. “You took me. I was on my way home when your _friend_ tried to grab me. I thought you were going to save me!”  
  
“That’s your own fault,” she says through grit teeth. “I made no pretense of helping you.”  
  
At this point, you’re fuming. “Yeah,” you manage. “I guess I shouldn’t have assumed that a bounty hunter would have any sense of fucking fairness!”  
  
You slump back into your seat, turning your glare away from her face and toward the road in front of you. It leaves you with a view of her in your periphery, so you do your best to turn to the side and look out the passenger window. You watch the greens on the side of the road whizz past, but it isn’t enough to distract you completely.  
  
Eventually, you hear a sigh from beside you. You don’t move, even when she starts talking.  
  
“I was employed to retrieve you,” she says. “Karkat was not.”  
  
You slowly turn to face her. “Why did he try to take me, then?” you ask. You want to continue being angry for the sake of it, but you also value answers. On principle, you still keep the pissed-off tone in your voice.  
  
“Karkat and I have a history of not getting along.”  
  
“Why?” you demand. “What happened?”  
  
“I’m not entirely sure why he tried to retrieve you,” she says, sailing over your question. “I don’t believe it’s about the money - he may be kind of shitty at his job, but it’s not like there’s a shortage of people willing to buy his services. If my hunch is correct, he planned to use you as leverage.”  
  
You don’t like the sound of that. “Leverage,” you repeat.  
  
She nods. “Yes,” she says. “Leverage. He probably planned to either trade you back to me for a price or something - I’m not sure what - or to kill you. The resulting anger from my client would probably give him some kind of satisfaction.”  
  
She stops talking, then, but you've already stopped listening, because something sticks out about what she's just said. The more you think about it, the more her words don’t align with her previous threats to kill you. If you are wanted dead or alive, then it wouldn’t matter to her client who does the killing; only that you eventually wind up in their possession.  
  
Even though you were just informed that you have not only one - but two, in fact - bounty hunters to be worried about, and that one of them is even more dangerous than you had initially assumed, you can’t help but be a little relieved. The bounty hunter that has you isn’t going to kill you.  
  
You think about trying to pry more information out of her, but you don’t want to push your luck. Plus, you’re really fucking tired.  
  
You rest your head on the window. The bounty hunter shifts in her seat, and you hear it more than you see it.  
  
“My name is Terezi Pyrope,” she tells you. She doesn’t look at you, and you don’t look at her, even though you want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one is a little short! Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

You are approaching the south-eastern corner of the continent in six days' time. You could have been there in less than three days, but Terezi has been nothing if not careful after the incident in the hotel lobby. She takes you south, back east, then south again. You stay in a small town for two days, having to endure being paraded down the streets in handcuffs for a few hours.  
  
She reasons that she's creating some sort of false trail. Karkat is not very resourceful, she tells you, but he surely has plenty of contacts. Some of which - she begrudgingly admits - are probably among her own contacts as well.  
  
You try to escape several times while you’re in that little town, because it’s much easier to escape from someone when you’re not constantly sitting in a car with them. But Terezi is still ever-diligent.  
  
She assures you time and time again that escaping is not actually in your best interest - that you can’t go home anyway. Instead of believing her, you tell her to fuck off. It’s a lot less depressing that way.  
  
Interspersed with your admirable but ultimately unsuccessful attempts at escape, you have been begging-  
  
You have been demanding to speak to your family. She eventually gives in, but only after she realizes that whacking your shins with her sword-cane won't get you to shut up.  
  
She even honors your wish for privacy and leaves the hotel room - but not without handcuffing you to something first. Still, you're surprised she agrees to it at all.   
  
You call John first, clutching the $20 prepaid phone that Terezi had bought at a corner store. In the first stroke of luck you’ve had since you stepped on that subway a week ago, he picks up on the second ring. You don’t think you have ever been more relieved to hear that stupid, nasally voice of his.  
  
“Holy fuck,” you say.  
  
“Vriska?” he asks, sounding a lot more alert than he did when he first answered the phone. “Man, are you alright? Where are you?”  
  
“I’m handcuffed to a table,” you say. “So no, I’m not fucking alright.”  
  
You hear some rustling through the phone, and when John speaks again, he’s whispering. “Your parents told me that the police said there’s a bounty on you!”  
  
“You talked to my parents?” you ask, your grip on the phone tightening.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, “I figured something was up when you weren’t answering my texts. They went to the police when you didn’t come home from your gig at the security place, but they said there wasn’t anything they could do.”  
  
You want to rip out your hair, but you don’t have any free hands. “So it’s true, then,” you say, managing to sound a lot less scared than you are.  
  
“Your parents wouldn’t tell me what the bounty’s for,” John continues. “And I couldn’t find it in the public databases. I even asked Roxy for help! What the hell did you do, Vriska?”  
  
“I didn’t do anything."  
  
“Are you, like…sure?”  
  
“I didn’t do anything!”  
  
“Okay, okay,” John says, stumbling over himself. “But you gotta have some idea of what this is all about.”  
  
“You’d think so,” you say, voice venomous, “But no. I have no fucking idea what’s going on.”  
  
You hear John breathe in. Then he says, “Well…at least tell me what happened.”  
  
“I was on my way home and this troll tried to grab me. He eventually caught me in an alley,” you say. You’re leaving a lot out, but it’s not like you have an unlimited amount of time.  
  
“And then this girl dropped out of the sky - like some angel of death or some shit - and knocked him right out!” you continue, the tiniest bit of awe slipping into your voice before you cough to disguise it. “But it turns out that they were both bounty hunters anyway, and now I’m with the girl. And, to top it all off, the guy is chasing us.”  
  
John is silent for a full five seconds before he asks, “Is she hot?”  
  
“What.”  
  
“The bounty hunter,” he clarifies. “Is she hot?”  
  
“John.”  
  
“Alright, fine. Was the other one hot? The dude?”  
  
“John,” you hiss. “That’s not fucking important!”  
  
“But…?”  
  
You wish you could put your face in your hands. You know that John is trying to cheer you up, but you kind of want to throttle him.  
  
“Quit objectifying women, John,” you say. “And yes, she’s really hot.”  
  
“Hey!” he protests. “I objectified the guy, too.”  
  
“Yeah,” you say, “And men are fucking ugly.”  
  
“I mean,” he says, but then he stops himself. You can tell that this conversation is about to become more serious.  
  
He clears his throat. “Are you okay, Vriska?”  
  
“I’m fucking peachy.”  
  
There’s some more rustling on the other end of the line, and when John speaks again, he’s whispering directly into the receiver, even quieter than he was before. “Do you want me to come get you?”  
  
“That won’t end well,” you say. You don’t say no.  
  
“I’ll do it,” he says. “I always wanted to be a fugitive.”  
  
You roll your eyes, because you know that he’s being entirely sincere and thinking about his (mostly) dumb movies. “I don’t know what this is about,” you say, “But I’m pretty sure that I’m not going to end up dead.”  
  
“Pretty sure?” he echoes. “Those odds don’t sound all that great.”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” you say, sounding a lot more confident than you feel.  
  
After a pause, he asks, “How are you calling me? Is this like, your one phone call, or something?”  
  
“I don’t think it works like that,” you say. “She let me call you, but she made me do it on this prepaid phone she just bought.”  
  
John hums, no doubt scheming. “What if I called you later? Can you keep the phone?”  
  
“Terezi’s probably going to crush this phone into tiny pieces when I’m done with it,” you say. You glance over your shoulder at the door, where Terezi is bound to be standing behind - or at least near. “She’s really fucking crazy.”  
  
“Terezi’s the bounty hunter?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
John breathes out a long sigh. “I wish you knew what you did.”  
  
“I didn’t do anything!”  
  
“I wish you knew why there’s a bounty on you,” he amends. After a moment, he says, “Vriska, I’m not trying to freak you out or anything, but we don’t know what’s going to happen to you. I’m serious, I’ll come get you. I know Taekwondo.”  
  
“John,” you start, trying and failing to sound patient. “You have a fucking white belt. I will kick your ass, right after _she_ kicks your ass, and then she’ll kick _my_ ass.”  
  
“Fine,” he grumbles. “But the least we should do is try to figure out what's going on. Has she told you anything?”  
  
“No,” you say, glancing back at the door again. “All I know is that she has some serious issues with the bounty hunter that tried to grab me. Apparently he wants to kill me. Or use me as leverage. Or something.”  
  
“Damn,” he says. “Did you ask your parents?”  
  
“I haven’t called them yet.”  
  
“Aw,” John says, and you’re sighing before he even finishes his sentence. “You called me first! I’m touched.”  
  
“John.”  
  
“Yes, Vriska?”  
  
“I fucking hate you.”  
  
“Yeah,” he says. “But, seriously - do you want me to come pick you up? I get that we’d never be able to come home or whatever - and that we’d be wanted outcasts - but I’d do it.”  
  
“I know you would, John,” you say, shoulders sagging. You really want to say yes, but you know that you two are not resourceful enough to hide from bounty hunters (or any law enforcement personnel, for that matter). You know that - if you say yes - you will be dragging John down with you.  
  
“But I don’t want you to,” you say. “I’ll figure something out.”  
  
You hear two knocks at the door before Terezi sticks her head in. “You have about seven minutes,” she says.  
  
“I haven’t called my parents yet,” you say, indignant.  
  
She sniffs. “That’s unfortunate.”  
  
“I hate you,” you tell her.  
  
“You have about seven minutes left before the card runs out on that phone,” she says, sounding impatient. “I’m just giving you a warning.” With that, she leans back out the door and shuts it. John is still trying to talk to you.  
  
“I have to go,” you say. “I need to call my parents.”  
  
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Call me if you can, alright? And stay safe.”  
  
“I’ll try. Bye, John.”  
  
“I’ll see you later,” he says, and you hope he’s right.  
  
You call your mom’s cell phone next. She answers before the first ring finishes, which is pretty much what you expected.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Mom,” you say, but whatever you plan to say next is cut off.  
  
“Vriska!” she yells. Right in your ear. And then again, right up in your fucking eardrums, “Come here! Vriska’s on the phone.”  
  
Soon you can hear your dad’s voice over the phone as well. You must be on speaker.  
  
“I only have a few minutes,” you say.  
  
“What happened?” she asks, hysterical. “Are you okay? Where are you? Where are they taking you?”  
  
“I was taken by a bounty hunter,” you say, even though it's apparent that she already knows that. “I’m…okay. We’re leaving today, but-”  
  
You cough, trying to mask your panic. “I don’t know where she’s taking me. West, I think.”  
  
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Vriska,” your dad says. “We’re - we’re so glad.”  
  
“Tell me what’s going on,” you demand. You’re glad to hear their voices, but you’re on a time limit.  
  
There is a silence that lasts a full four seconds. It is your mom who speaks, finally.  
  
“Vriska-” she says, before stopping. She does not speak back up.  
  
“I only have a few minutes,” you repeat, very close to flying into a rage.  
  
There is some murmuring that you are unable to pick up. When someone speaks again, it’s your dad. “Vriska-”  
  
Your mom tries to interrupt. “Please, don’t-”  
  
“She has a right to know.” Then, to you, “You’re adopted.”  
  
“No,” you say hoarsely, “I forgot.”  
  
“Your ancestor,” he starts. Stops. Starts again. “Your ancestor put out the bounty. She wants you back.”  
  
Your mouth goes dry. You have a whole host of questions, but you settle on asking, “What the fuck?”  
  
The odds of you being alive at the same time as your ancestor are low enough to begin with - most trolls are raised by lusii. Only a few highbloods manage to live long enough to see their descendants, and even then-  
  
“You were-” your mom starts, sniffing loudly, “We didn’t adopt you legally.”  
  
“What?” you question, quiet, disbelieving.  
  
“You know that I can’t have kids,” your mom says, like she’s begging you to understand. “And your father, with his trouble with the law when he was young-”  
  
“Who is she?” you cut in.  
  
“We didn’t know this would happen,” she says, steamrolling right over you.  
  
You nearly scream. “Who is she? My…ancestor.” The word feels weird on your tongue now that you know she’s out there, alive.  
  
“I don’t know,” your mom says. “Vriska, we-”  
  
“Oh my god,” you whisper, but it's only to the empty hotel room. You've run out of time, and the line has gone dead.

* * *

When Terezi comes back into the room, she is greeted with the sight - or smell, you guess - of you on the bed, staring blankly at the cellphone. She walks over and gingerly takes the phone out of your hands. You don’t watch her drop it into a nearby glass of water - you only hear it. You stare at the space between your hands that the phone previously occupied.   
  
“I have to be cautious,” she says, and you finally look at her.  
  
She doesn’t look concerned, exactly, but there is something there. She removes the handcuffs from your hands, saying _just for a bit_ , not softly - not quite. Her voice is too harsh for that.  
  
“My ancestor hired you,” you say.  
  
“Yes,” she answers. You continue to sit on the motel bed as she stands over you.  
  
“And you lied about me being wanted dead or alive.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
You nod to yourself. Your rage has simmered, and all that’s left is numbness. You ask, “What do you know about her?”  
  
Terezi clears her throat. “What do _you_ know about her?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
Terezi hesitates. “I have a name,” she says, and she tells you.  
  
Mindfang.  
  
She sits down on the edge of the bed, not facing you anymore. “I haven’t been doing this for very long,” she admits, which doesn’t surprise you. She’s too young, just like you.  
  
You don’t say anything.  
  
“I haven’t been doing this for very long at all!” she continues, despite your silence. “A little less than a sweep. Usually I take jobs that require me to go collect some deadbeat’s debt. No moral conflicts.” She adds, quite fucking needlessly, “I’ve never done a job like this.”  
  
You stare at her, but her dull eyes are unreadable behind her red-tinted shades.  
  
“I was contacted directly,” she says. “She had done all the heavy lifting for me. Tracked you down, knew your name, had your picture. All she needed was someone to go get you.”  
  
“Why you?” you say, finally speaking up.  
  
Terezi shrugs. “She said that she didn’t want the police involved any more than they had to be,” she tells you. “She said I have a promising track record. And I do.”  
  
A few moments pass before she admits, “I wish I hadn’t taken it.”  
  
And just like that, you’re furious again, because she _had_ taken the job, and because you are here in a motel room and not at home.  
  
She must sense your abrupt passion, because she starts to say, “I’m not going to lie to you-”  
  
“You already have.”  
  
“I lied to you about one thing,” she says, curt, “And that was your wanted status. I have not lied to you about anything else.”  
  
“And lies of omission?” you scoff.  
  
“There are no such things.”  
  
Well, that explains it. “Fuck you.”  
  
“Vriska,” she says. She sounds tired, but that seems to be par for the fucking course. “I’m not going to lie to you,” she says again.  
  
“Okay,” you say.  
  
“Okay,” she says, sounding relieved, like you just agreed to something by accident.  
  
You put your head in your hands and groan.  
  
“Vriska,” she says, grinding out your name. “The reason I’m telling you this is because - ugh.” She mutters something under her breath before continuing, “Mindfang’s name is tied to a lot of crime, but none of it has ever been pinned on her.”  
  
You look up, finding her facing you with the corners of her mouth drawn downward.

This is absolutely fucking fantastic.  
  
“Do you know for sure?” you ask.  
  
“No,” she says, though you can tell that she doesn’t really believe that. “But she was rather selective in who she contacted, and I didn’t even meet her face to face; every correspondence was done over the internet.” She scoots back on the bed more, picking her legs off the ground so she can fold them under her. “And she was rather…disdainful when talking to me. I have no hard proof other than some off-handed mentions on a lot of crime logs. But I had a gut feeling to begin with.”  
  
As much as the information overwhelms you, a glimmer of hope shines through the pile of shit that has become your life: Terezi doesn’t want to aid a criminal.  
  
Your voice is embarrassingly strained when you ask, “So you’ll let me go, then?”  
  
She startles and her back straightens. “I can’t,” she says, like you’re a goddamn idiot. “Who knows what she would do to get to you. Who she would hurt!”  
  
Loud footsteps and laughter sound from the hallway, but soon it’s quiet again.  
  
“This is the only way I can possibly assure minimal damage,” she says.  
  
You stare at your hands.  
  
“I’m not sure what will happen to you,” Terezi continues. She does not sound sadistically cheerful, now - she sounds resigned. “But you’ll be alive.”  
  
Your breath comes uneven. Your hands shake. “Shit,” you say. “Shit, shit, shit, shit. _Fuck_.”  
  
Her hand reaches out across the bed toward you, but she lets it fall halfway. “I’m sorry,” she says, and the worst thing about it is that she sounds like she _is_.  
  
“Fuck you!” you nearly shriek. You think you hate her.  
  
“Vriska-”  
  
You act fast - Terezi’s reaction time is quick, but she certainly isn’t expecting it. The lamp on the stand next to the bed is within your reach, and you rip the power cord right out of the socket when you grab it and swing it at Terezi like a club.  
  
Other than a low grunt, she makes no sound as the lamp connects with her skull, though the force of it is enough to stun her for a moment. You spring off the bed, your eyes sweeping past Terezi.  
  
You scramble toward the door, but you don’t even make it halfway before you’re being yanked backward. You throw your fist back, turning your body with it, hitting Terezi’s stomach. She hisses in pain.  
  
But it’s not enough. Terezi easily pins you to the ground, despite the fact that you flail like you’re possessed, kicking and grunting and punching. She doesn’t do anything other than hold you down with her body. She doesn’t try to stop your flying limbs. It occurs to you that each connection of your fists to her body is probably hurting you more than it is hurting her. You hit harder.  
  
She’s right, you think - letting you go has the very real potential to put others in danger. But you don’t care. You want to go home, or somewhere other than home. Anywhere but where she’s taking you.  
  
Terezi waits for the fight to go out of you. And eventually, it does.  
  
You clutch at her shirt and she lets you. She doesn’t say a word as you sob disgustingly into her neck. There’s blood on the side of her face from where part of the lamp had caught it, wet and sticky. You can feel it against your temple.  
  
Terezi is shushing you. You feel the noise reverberate in her throat more than you actually hear it. You’re crying too hard to be embarrassed about any of it.  
  
She shifts until she’s lying beside you instead of on top of you, sliding her arm under your head and using her other hand to stroke your hair. She’s still making soft noises, and your near-incoherent mind briefly wonders if being on the shabby motel carpet is grossing her out.

She continues stroking your hair, slow and soothing, her blood in between her skin and yours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to angst and exposition town, I guess.


	4. Chapter 4

Eventually - once you’re done crying like a fucking baby - Terezi helps you off the floor.

“Let’s get going,” she says.

You nod. She holds up the pair of handcuffs.  
  
“I’m not going to try to escape,” you say.  
  
“You have to understand why I’m not going to take your word for it.”

* * *

You don’t have much time to contemplate the fact that your parents have been lying to you your whole life, because you see Karkat later that day.  
  
Hours after Terezi hauls you up from the floor, you are entering a small diner on the border between territories. Soon, Terezi is grabbing the handcuff key from her jacket pocket, because the owner yells at Terezi over the counter as soon as you get through the door. Bounty hunters are bad for business, apparently.  
  
So she takes off the handcuffs. She doesn’t even grumble about it, though she does shoot you the usual warning look when you're free. You tell her to fuck off.  
  
Terezi is not very impressed by this at all, but you slip into a booth before she can say anything.  
  
She sits opposite of you. Takes the menu from the waitress with a little half-smile on her face. You try not to stare.  
  
You order the meatiest thing you can find. Anything and everything sounds good to you, especially considering that your meals have consisted of vending machine snacks for over a week now.  
  
Terezi straight-up orders raw beef. You’re a troll and all, but that’s fucked up.  
  
Still, the way she tears into her food is actually kind of-  
  
-Fuck. You’re getting Stockholm syndrome. That’s what this is.  
  
Some sort of defense mechanism within you fires off. Abruptly, you ask, “Why the fuck are you always wearing red?” 

“Why do you want to know?” she counters, frowning.  
  
“Because I’m crocheting you a blanket and I want to make sure the color’s right.”

When Terezi only levels her blank gaze at you, you add, “I’m just wondering. You don’t have to be so damn suspicious about everything!”  
  
“The suspicious survive!” she proclaims. “That’s the first thing they teach you in bounty hunter school.”  
  
It takes you far too long to realize that she’s joking, and by the time you do, you’ve seen him.  
  
Your booth is situated next to a window, and you can easily see right out of it and into the street. The road that runs through the town is a busy one, but you can spot Karkat on the other side of it as he comes out of a local shop and looks around.  
  
You quickly come to the conclusion that - if you can see him - he can just as easily see you.  
  
“Terezi,” you whisper harshly, pounding your fist on the table to get her attention. Later, you’ll realize that you should have held a menu up to hide your face, or got out of the booth, or something. But you've never really been that great under pressure.  
  
Across the street, Karkat’s head has stilled along with his movements entirely. You can’t see his eyes, but you can see that he’s facing you straight-on. Terezi sniffs deeply, trying to tell what has caught your attention. Then she stills, and her shoulders tense.  
  
Karkat and Terezi move at the same time. Terezi has you by the wrist, dragging you out of the booth and attaching the handcuffs to you as she goes.   
  
“Do you have a back door?” she hastily asks the waitress. She already knows the answer - you two had walked right past the back door on your way from the parking lot to the entrance. Asking, you realize, is merely a means to orient herself.  
  
The owner is yelling something about the handcuffs, but no one is listening to her. The few other patrons in the diner are looking at you two - most seem curious, though a few look like they’ve seen the same thing a thousand times.  
  
That’s the diner scene, you fucking guess.  
  
“You can’t go in the back,” a waitress says, but Terezi is already moving, running through the door sectioning off the kitchen and tugging you along the whole time. The owner calls after you - you only make out the word _cops_. An unsuspecting chef gets in Terezi’s way, and soon he’s on the ground.  
  
“What the fuck?” you demand, but she barrels on.  
  
“I hope that the street’s busy enough to slow Karkat down,” she says. “Or else we’re in trouble.”  
  
Terezi finds the back door quickly enough, and the sunlight blinds you when you step outside. She must be really nervous, because she forgets to drag you along as she rushes to the car. Luckily for her, you see Karkat out of the corner of your eye - he’s at the edge of the parking lot, sprinting toward you with a fucking _sickle_ drawn. You run toward Terezi’s car, nearly tripping over yourself.  
  
You open the door with your shaky, bound hands. It takes a little maneuvering, and you struggle to close the door once you're in - Terezi has already started driving. But you manage.  
  
And then Terezi hits Karkat with her car.  
  
You swear. Then, you swear about eight more times for good measure. Terezi looks in the rearview mirror just as you whip around to look out the back window. Karkat is trying to get off the ground, but his ankle doesn’t look like it’s complying with him.  
  
“He’s okay,” she breathes.  
  
You swear again.  
  
“We stayed here too long,” Terezi says, needlessly.  
  
Your hands are still shaking. “You never told me why you wear red all the time,” you say, and Terezi looks over at you like you have a second head. You don’t really blame her.  
  
Still, she gives you an answer. “It’s my favorite,” she says.  
  
You decide that you want to go home.

* * *

If you were a pathetic loser, you might’ve said that the incident at the diner has you scared. It’s a good thing that you’re not a pathetic loser.

You’re not scared. Worried? Maybe.  
  
That’s how Terezi finds you when she comes back from an _errand_ she had to run: worried. You’re handcuffed to the small table by the motel bed, staring vacantly at a TV that's playing Sunday morning cartoons.  
  
Terezi takes two steps into the room and throws a bag at you. You didn’t even notice her come in, and you try to cover up your violent flinch with a cough.  
  
“You okay?” Terezi asks, frowning. You bristle.  
  
Taking one from her book, you go without answering. The bag had landed neatly in your lap, and you take a minute to root through its contents - a variety of clothes, including a pretty heavy jacket.  
  
You stare at the clothes, not quite comprehending what you’re supposed to do with them. When you ask Terezi about it, she looks exasperated.  
  
“They’re for you,” she says, like you're a moron. “We’re going to be driving west for a little longer and then back up north - right into a snowstorm. That shirt you’ve been wearing won’t cut it.”  
  
It has occurred to you that Terezi’s actions suggest that she doesn’t want to kill you - regardless of whether or not her bounty forbids it. You don’t want to bring this up, because while you’re reasonably sure she won’t kill you, you don’t want her killing you just to prove a point. Still, the fact that she’s brought you clothes has you laughing.  
  
She frowns at your outburst. “What?” she asks, sounding more than a little alarmed.  
  
“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Nothing - it’s just, I think it’s funny.”  
  
That - for some reason - has her clenching her jaw. “You stink!” she says, which is true. You laugh harder.  
  
You wheeze. “Stop what? Laughing?”  
  
She mutters something under her breath, and you’re nearly hysterical - but then you see the blush dusting her cheeks, and your laugh chokes to a halt.

* * *

You have been alternating between states of panic and states of utter exhaustion for the last few days. Today, something else comes over you: near-delirium.  
  
Taking your cuffed hands, you turn on the radio without waiting for Terezi to honor your request for her to do so. You barely recognize the song, but you know enough words to sing along with the chorus.  
  
With a broad grin that is mostly just bared teeth, you glance at Terezi. She grips the steering wheel tightly but makes no move to turn off the radio.

So that’s how it’s going to be.  
  
You sing louder. The chorus has passed and - at this point - you’re just making up the words.  
  
Terezi takes notice. “I don’t think you know this song very well!” she observes.  
  
She looks tired, but that’s nothing new. Not that you are fairing any better - you’re left with an image of sunken eyes and stress acne every time you look in the mirror.  
  
You turn down the radio. “Where are you from?” you ask her.  
  
She takes a long time to respond. For a moment, you think that she’s not going to answer you at all.

Turning her head away from you, she finally says, “The west coast.”  
  
You roll your eyes. “Mysterious,” you say, feeling the beginnings of frustration claw at you.  
  
“Our situation doesn’t exactly foster trust,” she says.  
  
You bite your cheek. “And whose fault is that?”  
  
She shakes her head. Suddenly, she asks, “Are you a good person, Vriska?”  
  
You stare at her. “Is that how you figure out if people are good or not?” you ask her. Your voice has an edge to it. “You just ask them.”  
  
Terezi’s jaw clenches. “I…trust you to answer the question truthfully.”  
  
You don’t know what she wants you to say. You don’t even consider her question, really, because you know that she’s had to have dug up all the dirt she could, even beyond what your ancestor gave her. You know that she knows that you as good as paralyzed a troll and killed another.  
  
You look out the window. Clear your throat.  
  
Eventually, you ask, “How many good people do you know that actually know they’re good?”  
  
Terezi tilts her head, and you can see her nose twitch. She’s trying to read you.  
  
She says, “I don’t know that many good people to begin with.”  
  
You don’t really know what to say to that.

* * *

The road you are on is clear for miles behind and miles ahead. Moving west again, you’re off the highway - another tactic of Terezi’s to throw Karkat off your trail.  
  
The barren nature of the road means that you see smoke and the speck of a car in the distance long before you can tell where, exactly, it is: which is off the shoulder and into the snowy ditch below. Once you approach, you notice that the metal barrier that separates the shoulder and the ditch has been broken through, and that there is smoke rising from the hood of the car.  
  
Terezi makes no sign of slowing down.  
  
“Aren’t you going to stop?”  
  
“What?” Terezi asks, alarmed. She didn’t notice, at first - she must be more exhausted than you thought. But she figures it out quickly enough.  
  
Still, she keeps driving.  
  
“Uh, hello?” you say, once you’ve passed the car. “Stop?”  
  
“I don’t like the look of it.”  
  
“You can’t look at anything!” you say, before you can stop yourself. “And what does that even mean? Stop the car!” you yell, and she does.  
  
Once the car is parked, Terezi turns to you, exasperated. “It could be a trap!”  
  
You roll your eyes as she turns off the car. “Now you’re just bullshitting me,” you say. You’re not sure why this is pissing you off so much. “Didn’t you, like, swear an oath to protect people, or some shit?”  
  
Terezi’s face contorts until she’s nearly snarling at you. “No.”  
  
You would throw your arms in the air, if one of them weren’t already chained above you. “Fine!” you say, turning your body away from her as best you can, “let whoever-the-fuck die in their stupid fucking car. I don’t give a shit.”  
  
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Terezi shake her head. She turns the key in the ignition. You expect her to keep going forward, but instead she throws the car in reverse. You bite your tongue.  
  
She stops short of the wreck, maintaining a distance of about twenty feet. She surveys the sides of the road carefully before getting out and doing it again.  
  
When Terezi leans back into the car, she still has her attention on the mutilated metal off the shoulder of the road. “Stay here,” she orders. You give her a tight-lipped smile in response, shaking your handcuffed wrist. She flushes before slamming the car door shut, and you consider it a victory.  
  
Terezi walks behind the parked car and toward the edge of the road, her sword unsheathed and ready. You’re not quite sure what she expects to find waiting for her in that mangled car, but you’re fairly certain that she doesn’t need a goddamn sword.  
  
You sigh, taking your eyes off Terezi and leaning back in your seat. That’s when you notice that she left her jacket.  
  
Through the rearview mirror, you can see smoke rising and not much else. You manage to crank the window open and listen, but Terezi doesn’t even make it to the ditch before you get restless. You can’t see or hear shit.  
  
You eye the jacket. You don’t remember if she keeps the keys to the handcuffs in her pants pockets or her jacket pockets, but you figure that it doesn’t hurt to check.  
  
Reaching with your free hand over the console, you pull the jacket close. There's nothing in the outer pockets, but you find an inner pocket, zippered shut. Inside is a small key.  
  
You don’t waste any time. Hands free and jacket in arms, you gladly abandon the handcuffs in the car.  
  
The winter chill hits you quickly. Looking up and down the road, you see nothing but icy concrete. Off-road isn’t much better - you’re in the plains; there’s not a single tree in sight. It’s just you, Terezi, and the snow. And the sorry bastard who drove their car into a ditch.  
  
Clenching your jaw, you head toward Terezi as you tug on her jacket.  
  
Terezi has walked down the hill and into the ditch, still refusing to get too close to the wreckage. From here, the car looks even worse - the front of the car is smashed in, and you can see a figure slumped forward in the driver’s seat. The snow crunches under your feet as you near the slope of the ditch, and it catches Terezi’s attention.  
  
She turns her head toward you and inhales deeply, finding you standing at the top of the hill. You make your way down before she can say anything, kicking up snow as you go. Your shoes are definitely not made for it, and you can feel your feet getting wet. Fucking perfect.  
  
You come to stand next to her. She sheathes her cane-sword and looks at you like you’re the source of every problem in her life.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?”  
  
“Helping,” you say gruffly, moving semi-cautiously toward the car. You ignore Terezi when she orders you to stop.

The figure in the car stirs and you give up all pretense of being careful. You trudge through the snow, moving quickly for the car.  
  
The handle to the door is ice under your hand, and the door doesn’t budge when you pull.  
  
You turn around to find Terezi watching you. You ask, “Are you just going to stand there?”  
  
Terezi has the decency not to try the handle for herself after she approaches. Instead, she uses the head of her cane as a crowbar, jamming the back-end through the crack of the car door. It takes a couple of tries as you pull on the handle, but soon the door is creaking open.  
  
The woman slumps sideways - she must have been leaning on the door - but her seatbelt stops her from falling out. She’s human, and old, and you’re surprised she’s not dead. Terezi leans over and reaches for the seat belt buckle.

She grunts. “It’s jammed,” she says. You step back reflexively when she unsheathes her sword, which has her tilting her head and grinning. You scowl.  
  
Terezi leans back in the car and cuts the material straight through. You’re kind of impressed that she manages not to stab the woman.  
  
Terezi pulls the human out of the car and props her up against its side. She’s conscious, but only barely; she is shivering furiously and not doing much else. You remove Terezi’s jacket - it's too small for you anyway - and drape it over her shaking shoulders.  
  
“Is that my jacket?” she asks. You resolutely ignore her.  
  
Terezi shakes her head and climbs the hill again. She returns soon after, holding a small flip-phone to her ear. You only hear the tail end of her conversation - something about how she _can’t stay on the line_.  
  
“How old is that thing?” you ask her.  
  
She doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she grimaces and says, “Let’s get her up the hill.”

* * *

You and Terezi work together well enough, carrying the woman up the hill and strapping her into Terezi’s car. Terezi cranks up the heat, but the woman is still shivering and blue. She hasn’t spoken to you - hasn’t been able to - other than to say _thank you_.  
  
Terezi doesn’t speak much. You two stand in the cold while the human sits in her car. Every once in a while, Terezi checks if she’s still breathing, but there’s not much either of you can do.  
  
Terezi stands stiff and rigid; it doesn’t show on her face, but you can tell that she’s worried. Whether it is for the woman or for herself, you can’t say.  
  
Eventually, you just bite the bullet and ask what’s bothering her.  
  
She tilts her head toward you. “Karkat always seems to know where we are,” she says, “and I don’t know how! There’s no reason he should be finding us so fast.”  
  
So she was worried for herself. But you can’t fault her for it.  
  
“You think he’s still on our trail,” you say.  
  
“Yes,” she answers, “I do.”  
  
Bluntly, you ask, “How? It’s not like you’re reckless - I've watched you change your plates like eight fucking times.” You think about what Terezi said about his contacts, and after a beat, you add, “And I doubt Karkat has _that_ many friends.”  
  
“He _is_ unpleasant,” Terezi agrees, sounding frustrated. “I have no idea how he’s tracking us.”  
  
You frown. “How are his computer skills?"  
  
“Abysmal!” Terezi says, and she almost sounds cheery about it. “He saw me looking at the source code of a webpage and called it ‘hacking.’”  
  
You let out a long sigh through your nose.

You look at Terezi enviously, because even though she is without a jacket, she seems almost indifferent toward the cold. Meanwhile, you’re shivering your ass off and trying not to be too obvious about it. You glance back at Terezi’s car, but you really have no desire to go in there - even if the traumatized human looks like she could use some company.  
  
Sill, your teeth are chattering. “It’s a good thing there's not an emergency or anything,” you deadpan. “Where the fuck is this ambulance?”  
  
Terezi turns her head toward the human before turning back to face you. “Are you cold?” she asks, her voice betraying just a hint of amusement.  
  
“Yes,” you snap. “It’s cold outside.”  
  
“You should stop leaning against the cold metal, for starters,” she says, and you reluctantly move away from the car.  
  
“I’m _always_ leaning on metal,” you grumble, shaking the arm in question. You’re kind of surprised that the joints are even still working.  
  
The corners of Terezi’s mouth turn downward, and you know what she’s thinking about.

Your face burns with embarrassment. You never had the guts to read the police statement or any press about what went down between you, Tavros, and Aradia, but you can guess that it was telling enough.  
  
You don’t expect her to say anything, but she does. She says, “Come here.”  
  
Hesitating just enough to make you feel like a loser, you do as Terezi says. You slide up to her, and she slings her arm around your back in a half-hug, your flesh-and-blood arm pressed against her side. You almost feel like you’re dying.  
  
“Better?” she questions, her voice a bit strained.  
  
Right. The cold.  
  
You nod. As quietly as you can manage - which isn’t very - you ask, “How do you know Karkat, anyway?”

Terezi’s arm stiffens around you. It’s kind of impressive, considering how rigid it was before.  
  
“We were foster-siblings,” she says. No buildup, no context.  
  
Your eyebrows shoot up on your forehead. “You were raised by humans too?”  
  
Terezi shakes her head. “Both of our lusii died pretty recently, so I don’t think that’s fair to say,” she says. When you don’t respond, she continues, “His lusus was killed by an exploding computer. Mine got hit by a meteor.”  
  
What the fuck.  
  
Next to you, Terezi lets out a small puff of air. “It’s all very dramatic,” she says.  
  
You try not to sound too eager for information when you ask, “What happened?”  
  
“Here's what happened: I’m better than him!” Terezi says. “And Karkat - well. He has a bit of an inferiority complex.”  
  
You snort. “And that’s why he’s trying to ruin your shit?” _That’s why he’s trying to kill me_  is left unsaid.  
  
“Our foster dad used to be a bounty hunter,” she explains. “Karkat trained with him for nearly a sweep - I didn’t. Thought I’d be pretty useless, not being able to see!” She actually laughs at that, and it’s a startling sound.  
  
“One day, Karkat got jumped after school by three other trolls,” Terezi continues. “He would never tell us why they were so pissed at him. But they made him cry like a wriggler!” She pauses before concluding, “And then I kicked their asses.” With her free hand, she taps on the head of her cane with her fingers. “I didn’t even have a sword in this thing yet.”  
  
“And so your foster dad trained you instead,” you guess.  
  
Terezi hums. “And stopped training Karkat. I doubt Karkat would’ve cared, otherwise - even though I was fully trained in a fraction of the time that it took him. He cared because people were impressed with me, and he was neglected.”  
  
“ _That’s_  why he’s after you?” you ask, incredulous. “Because people didn’t _believe_  in him enough?”  
  
“Yes,” Terezi answers. “There was that, and also that I didn’t want to date him - he thought we were kindred spirits, or something equally ridiculous, since we were both orphaned by freak accidents.” She sighs before adding, “And then there was when he thought the boy _he_  was into was into _me_  - which he wasn’t. And then there was when his best friend wouldn’t talk to him anymore because I broke his nose when he tried to lay a hand on me.”  
  
“So an all around shitshow,” you surmise.  
  
“A shitshow, indeed!” Terezi agrees.  
  
You lean further into Terezi’s side before you realize what you’re doing. Terezi had - literally less than 20 minutes ago - gone on about how she doesn’t want to give away information because she doesn’t want anyone taking advantage of it. And now here she is, telling you things that you would dare to call compromising. You know that this has to be a conscious decision on Terezi’s part - you just haven’t decided if it’s a _stupid_ conscious decision. Regardless, you feel a worrying surge of affection for her.  
  
It takes you a second to remember what the hell you two were talking about in the first place. When you do remember, you ask, “You think that he’d kill me just because no one likes him? Just to damage your reputation?”  
  
She hesitates, which is something that you will have time to think about later. For now, you only listen when she says, “Damage my _career_ \- it’s more than my reputation. Karkat is very angry. And determined.” After a moment, she adds, “He’s never come this close to actually sabotaging me. He’s an awful bounty hunter, but maybe he’s getting better.”  
  
You don’t know the guy, but - judging by how much of a pansy Terezi’s described him to be - you doubt that he’s getting better. Still, it must be something - you really think that he must have a tracker on Terezi, somehow, even though all evidence points to the contrary. You’ve seen Terezi search her car top to bottom every week, you’ve only seen her use pay-phones, and you’ve never seen her use a computer.

Frustrated, you try to shake the thought of Karkat out of your mind. 

Leaning against Terezi, you let silence hang in the air. You two stand in the cold, waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say, it's kind of hard to write Karkat as a villain! Not that he can't be shitty at times (especially to Terezi), but I have a tough time seeing him have malicious intentions (beyond his, like, dedicated mission to harass the beta kids, I guess). 
> 
> But whatever! I love Karkat, but he's a dick, and here he's just more of a dick. Them's the breaks.


	5. Chapter 5

Terezi decides that all her efforts to throw Karkat off her trail were more of a waste of time than anything else. She entertained the idea of driving straight through, and you kindly reminded her that dying in a fiery car crash would only be doing Karkat’s job for him.  
  
It’s more than that, though. Every time you think about being separated from Terezi and being handed over to your ancestor, you’re filled with a sense of dread that you would never admit to out loud.  
  
But you can’t delay the inevitable. You’re getting close, now that Terezi has decided to take a more direct route.

You have no idea what it will be like when you’re delivered to your ancestor. You think that maybe it’ll be fine - after all, she’s a criminal, and you might as well be one. Maybe she’ll ask you to join her ranks. Maybe she’ll just let you go back home. Whatever your fate may be, you can’t help but think that you’d rather just spend the rest of your days in a car with Terezi than in the custody of a crime boss.  
  
Terezi had decided to stop in another small town for the night, but you never got a chance to see it - you arrived after dark, and leave before daybreak.  
  
Handcuffed, you feel like a zombie as you walk out to Terezi’s car. Terezi looks just as bad.  
  
“Why are we traveling during the day?” you ask, voice still rough with sleep. “Got used to the humans’ cycle when you lived with them?”  
  
You’ve noticed that Terezi tends to favor silence when she first wakes up, but she answers you easily enough. “Karkat travels by day,” she explains, “because he’s terrible at being a troll. We’re traveling by day so he can’t catch up to us while we sleep.”  
  
Terezi opens the passenger door for you, and you nod at her before getting in. You hold up your hands so she can remove one of the cuffs and attach it to the handle above the door, but she doesn’t stop after taking off one; she unlocks both. Then, without a word, she closes the door and walks around to the other side of the car.  
  
“Hopefully you don’t do anything stupid!” she belatedly adds, sliding into the driver’s seat. “If we get into an accident, it will be just as bad for you as it will be for me.”  
  
You nod and bite your tongue.  
  
Seemingly satisfied by your silence, Terezi nods to herself and starts the car.  
  
“You’d much rather be with me than with him,” she says. Then, her somewhat agreeable expression shifts into something a little more straight - she must’ve remembered that she’s supposed to be a badass or a hardass or something. She adds, “Or don’t believe me! It’s your life on the line.”  
  
You rub the sore and reddened flesh at your wrists. Terezi winces next to you.  
  
“You’re not really fooling me, you know!” you say, trying to sound conversational. Instead, you only sound annoyed.  
  
Terezi frowns. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Every once in a while you’ll remember that you haven’t been mean or scary,” you say. “So you start acting like an asshole.”  
  
“I’m going to put the handcuffs back on.”  
  
“See,” you nearly yell, “that right there! I can’t even tell if you’re serious or not. How the fuck am I supposed to hold a conversation with you?”  
  
“That’s the point!”  
  
“What, you don’t like talking to me?” you ask, disbelief coloring your tone.  
  
Terezi purses her lips. “You’re a fine conversational partner, Vriska,” she says, “though I don’t know why my opinion matters so much.” She turns her face away so you can’t see her expression. “But I’m not here to talk, or to enjoy your company. I’m here to do my job!”  
  
You scowl, but Terezi isn’t turned toward you to see it - or smell it, you guess. You turn back, cross your arms, and stare out the passenger side window.  
  
Soon, you hear Terezi shift beside you. But you manage to keep your resolve, your gaze out the window and on the sky above.

* * *

You’re really tired of seeing Karkat’s stubby form.

When you see him approaching the car - Terezi is inside the gas station, probably buying the snacks you had complained about not having - you decide that you should just quit letting your guard down.  
  
You throw yourself across the console and lock the doors right before Karkat can wrench yours open. Unfortunately for you, he merely uses the butt of his stupid fucking sickle to smash through the window and unlock the door himself.  
  
You scramble away from him, yelling and cursing. Still, with a lot of effort, Karkat is able to hoist you out of the car and put a hand over your mouth.

You bite down and taste blood.  
  
He swears, but it doesn’t stop him. It must be pretty hard to carry you across the parking lot with all the kicking and screaming on your part, but he manages.  
  
Karkat carries you to his own car - a pickup truck. A little too late, you see Terezi come out of the gas station and onto the parking lot. You don’t get a very good look at her face, because you’re kind of in the middle of something, but you can practically feel her panic-stricken expression.  
  
You’re being thrown in the passenger seat of his truck, and he must’ve had the locks modified, because you can’t open the door. He moves fast, running around to the driver's side before Terezi reaches the truck. You pray to a god - not necessarily _God_ , but like, any god that’s listening, that he doesn’t run her down in some twisted act of revenge. You kind of hate yourself for it.  
  
He doesn’t run her down, proving himself to not be utterly terrible - only _mostly_ terrible.  
  
“You’ve been a real fucking peach,” he tells you, swerving out of the parking lot and onto the street.

You stop trying to kick him. Dying in a car crash would be a really shitty way to go, after everything.  
  
“Fuck you,” you snarl. When you whip around to look out the back window, the gas station is out of sight, and so is Terezi’s car.  
  
He isn’t driving for long before he pulls off the road and into a well-populated supermarket parking lot.

As soon as the car stops rolling, you’re kicking and punching again. He manages to grab your ankle, holding it in a tight grip. With that, he reaches over and grabs your wrists, cuffing them together after pulling a pair of handcuffs out of the glove box in the same motion.  
  
“Now,” he starts gruffly, “I’m going to set some ground rules: if you try to escape, I’ll fucking kill you. If you decide to attack me again, I’ll fucking kill you. If you don’t do what I say, _I will fucking kill you_. Got it?  
  
Your glare doesn’t waver. “Where are you taking me?”  
  
“Where the fuck do you think?” he responds. “To your shitbag ancestor.”  
  
“And she lives where, exactly?” you ask him. Karkat seems much more willing to give away information than Terezi - she did say he’s a pretty mediocre bounty hunter, which makes sense.  
  
He squints. “I thought you’d know that.”  
  
You sit there, gaping a little bit, because there is very little else you can do.  
  
Karkat stares at you, awaiting some kind of response. He’s a very scruffy-looking troll, especially now that you can see him up close. His eyes, like Terezi’s, are red; and - while he has pupils and yellow around his irises where she doesn’t - his eyes, unlike Terezi’s, are dull, unassuming, and surprisingly human. Her eyes are bright and perceiving even behind her glasses, even if she can’t see a thing.  
  
Karkat is still awaiting an answer. Finally, you say, “Are you shitting me? You managed to track me all over the country, but you don’t know where I was going?”  
  
“Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot,” he snaps, “you blithering shithole.”  
  
“Is that one of your ground rules? Also, do you have to yell in my fucking ear?”  
  
“Yes-No-” he starts, cutting himself off with a frustrated sigh. Then he asks, “You’re not lying, are you?”  
  
You think that the best way to figure out if someone is lying is _not_  to directly ask them, but you decide that Karkat’s patience probably has a limit that you are rapidly approaching. “No,” you say evenly, “I’m not lying.”  
  
“Fucking great,” he says, and you hum. You’re beginning to wonder why you had ever been afraid of this chump. He meets your eyes and says, “Well, we’re going to get the fuck out of town, and then I’m going to find a motel until I figure things out. Remember the ground rules.”  
  
_Well_ , you think, _at least he’s more forthcoming than Terezi_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

True to his word, Karkat finds a motel. You’re enjoying your time being handcuffed yet again, this time to a towel rack in the bathroom - apparently, your _incessant questioning_ about Terezi was starting to get on Karkat’s nerves.

Sitting on a toilet seat with a towel draped over it, you spend a lot of your time wondering where Terezi is, and what she’s thinking. You've decided that she’ll find you - you have much more faith in her abilities than in Karkat’s, and Karkat managed to find you just fine.

You can hear him muttering to himself from the room. The door to the bathroom is open, but you have no way to see him; the motel desk, which you assume he is sitting at, is directly on the other side of the wall to your left.

“Hey, asshole!” you call.

His muttering only ceases for a split-second before he calls back to you. “What the fuck do you want?”

“What would you have done if you couldn’t capture me, and I escaped from Terezi?” you ask. You can almost _feel_ his scowl through the wall.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asks. “I would just wait for Terezi to recapture you, and then I would capture you from her.”

You roll your eyes for your own benefit. “What if she let me go? Would you kill me?”

“God, no,” Karkat says. You hear the desk chair creak as he gets out of it. In a few heavy footsteps, he’s standing in front of you, leaning against the door frame. His expression is nothing short of befuddled. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

It’s your turn to be confused. “To make Terezi look bad,” you say. “The same reason you were trying to get me in the first place.”

“That would be cruel,” he says - and, Jesus Christ, does he not know how to speak at a normal volume. “If Terezi let you go, she would be making herself look bad. I wouldn’t have to do a damn thing.”

With that, he turns away and presumably heads back to the desk. You squint at the space he previously occupied, mulling over his words.

You don’t have to think about what he said for very long before you’re enraged. You want to hit something - namely, Terezi’s face.

She let you think that Karkat is part of the reason why she won't let you go - that Karkat would go after you anyway. Not that she explicitly told you that, but still! She let you assume, and that's what matters.

And it isn't true, apparently - she probably has no qualms taking you to your ancestor. She probably told you otherwise just to make the whole process easier; to make you more passive and willing. You don’t know if she even believes that your ancestor might hurt others to get to you.

Karkat calls, “Where did you get that idea?” 

It’s probably for the best that he can’t see your face, because you can see in the mirror that you look murderous. “Terezi,” you answer through your teeth. You’re quiet, but not so quiet that Karkat can’t hear you.

“That sounds like her,” he says, annoyed. “Always expecting the worst in people!”

“You abducted me,” you point out, voice strained.

“It’s not abduction if it’s legal,” he grumbles.

Your head hurts, so you lean it against the cool bathroom wall. You ask, “You’re saying that she actually thought you’d kill me?”

“Fucking probably.”

You close your eyes, because at least there’s that. It’s possible that Terezi just thinks much more poorly of Karkat than she needs to - that she didn’t lie to you about wanting to let you go. You latch onto that hope like a lifeline, because it means that there’s still a way out of the mess you’re in.

“Terezi said that she’d let me go,” you say cautiously, “If it weren’t for you.” While it isn’t a total truth, it’s close enough to the truth to matter.

“Yeah, right,” he snorts. “Sure she did.”

“Call her,” you suggest. If Terezi really had considered letting you go, then this will be a lot simpler than you had anticipated.

“And give her the chance to figure out where we are?” he returns. “Nice try, but I’m not a moron.”

“I beg to fucking differ,” you say.

Instead of receiving a coherent retort, you hear a string of swears.

“What?” you ask, alarmed.

“My stupid, shitty computer broke.”

Again, you find yourself rolling your eyes at someone who can’t see it. You almost consider asking if it exploded, but it’s probably not a good idea to agitate the troll who has you in handcuffs. Venom in your tone, you say, “Get it repaired?”

"I’m not exactly rolling in cash, shitbrain,” he calls. You hear him shuffling around - soon after, he announces, “I’m going to get some food.”

You glare at him as he passes the bathroom on his way to the door. “Can you at least move me? My ass hurts,” you say, but he’s already gone.

What a dick.

* * *

You know Karkat’s back by his stomping and swearing. He briefly comes into the bathroom, throwing his soaking wet jacket over the shower curtain.

“It’s fucking raining,” he kindly explains.

He leaves and busies himself with something in the other room. You eye the jacket.

“I’ll move you in a second,” he calls. You think you hear him mutter _I have to pee_ , like it’s your own damn fault he tied you up in the bathroom.

His jacket is hanging no more than a foot to your left, and you rummage through it as quickly and as quietly as you can manage. You don’t find a key, but you do find a decently-sized pocket knife. Taking it gladly, you hope that it’s a sign that luck is beginning to fall on your side.

You stick it in your own pocket just in time. When Karkat stumbles back in the bathroom to move you, it’s clear that he doesn’t suspect a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short one this time, sorry guys! It just made sense splitting it up this way *griffin mcelroy voice* narratively speaking. 
> 
> Reminder that the update schedule is for sure Mondays and Fridays, and probably Wednesdays. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Less than 32 hours later, you’re entering a bar.  
  
From what you understand, Karkat has made zero progress in figuring out where he’s supposed to go. He’s still refusing to contact Terezi - as it stands, he’s blindly driving you around in his stupid truck.  
  
“I need a drink,” he says when you question him upon arrival. “You are the most annoying person I have ever had the misfortune of dealing with.”  
  
He opens the door to the bar for you. To thank him, you kick him in the shin as you walk past.  
  
The bar is seedy, dimly lit, and surprisingly busy for an early afternoon. You’re still in handcuffs, but most people don’t look twice when Karkat pushes you toward the stools at the bar.  
  
“You’re a dick,” you tell him as he slides into the stool next to you.  
  
“What a fucking astute observation!” he says, motioning for the bartender. He orders a drink before turning to you and asking, “What do you want?”

 _Fuck off_ is what you almost say, but your dry mouth convinces you to take a different approach. You say, “Water.”  
  
Karkat nods at the bartender. The bartender gives you a sidelong glance, but she places a glass of water in front of you without a word.  
  
“I’m starving,” you say.  
  
Karkat shrugs. “And I’m broke.”  
  
You've decided that being around Karkat is a surreal experience. Everything he says sounds like part of some cosmic joke, in which everyone is laughing at your expense.  
  
“You just spent the last of your money on beer,” you say. It is not a question.  
  
“And water,” he points out.  
  
“And beer!”  
  
“I said I need a drink,” he growls. Then, he says, “I’ll have plenty of money once I hand you over, though. So don’t you worry.”  
  
“You don’t even know where to turn me in!” you shout, and the bartender gives you a look of warning. You glare back. “Oh, fuck off.”  
  
Just then, light streams in from the front door, and three men crowd in. They don’t occupy your attention for more than a moment, but Karkat ducks down as soon as he sees the group.  
  
“Shit,” he says through his teeth. “Shit.”  
  
You glance back at them again. All three are humans, and all three are dressed in suits made from a garish, lime-green material. The man in the middle is the shortest - shorter than Karkat, even - and his skin is a sickly, pale white. The men flanking him are broad-shouldered and square-jawed.  
  
“Who are they?” you ask Karkat, who grabs your shoulder and faces you forward.  
  
He isn’t fast enough; the man in the middle calls out half a second before Karkat turns you around.  
  
“Good afternoon, Mr. Vantas,” he says, approaching you and Karkat.  
  
Karkat’s shoulders tense. You watch him take a deep breath before turning around to face the group.   
  
“Hey, Doc,” Karkat greets.  
  
Standing only a couple feet in front of you, it is clear that the man in the middle - Doc, apparently - is running the show. The men to his left and right seem to have the sole job of standing there and angrily crossing their arms.  
  
Karkat has a painfully forced smile on his face. Doc is smiling as well, calm and sure, but something about him makes you incredibly uneasy.  
  
Doc’s gaze slides over to rest on you. “Who is this lovely young lady?” he asks, tilting his head. “You’re on a job, I presume?”  
  
Karkat gives a curt nod. “You guessed it.”  
  
Doc’s smile widens. “Does that mean you will have my money, perhaps?” he asks. “Or do you have one of your age-old excuses prepared?”  
  
You angle your head toward Karkat and hiss, “You came to a bar in a city where you owe people money?”   
  
“Karkat owes a lot of people a lot of money,” the man on the left says. “It probably doesn’t matter which bar he goes to.”  
  
“Shut the hell up, Crowbar,” Karkat says, and the man - Crowbar - takes half a step forward.  
  
The bartender slams her hand down on the counter behind you, and you aren’t the only one to startle.  
  
“If you think you’re gonna start a fight in my bar, you’ve got something else coming,” she growls.  
  
“We don’t want any trouble,” Crowbar says, flashing a smile.  
  
“You’re full of shit, Crow.”  
  
Before Crowbar can speak - to defend his honor or something - Doc cuts him off. “We will be leaving shortly,” he says, and the bartender huffs.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, but she moves on to another patron.  
  
“Let’s go outside and have a talk, Karkat,” Doc says. Crowbar crosses his arms again, putting all his effort into making himself look intimidating - not that he needs much help. The human on the right hasn’t uncrossed his arms at all, and you suspect that his face is starting to get tired with all the scowling he’s doing.  
  
“I’m alright here,” Karkat says.  
  
“I think you might want to reconsider,” Doc suggests. “I really do not desire to start a fight. I imagine that such a scene would upset the bartender of this fine establishment.”  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t _make_ a scene, then!” Karkat returns.  
  
Doc nods at Crowbar, and he and the man on the right move at the same time. But they are once again stopped before they can kick Karkat’s sorry ass - another voice sounds from across the bar, belonging to someone whose entrance had gone unnoticed.  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t do that!” Terezi suggests.

You nearly fall out of your seat.  
  
Karkat stands up, and you stand up with him. All five of you are facing her, and most of the bar’s customers are looking back and forth between Terezi and the rest of you. Terezi turns her head in your direction for just a moment, and you think you see something close to relief on her face.  
  
“Now who is this?” Doc questions. Karkat reaches out to grab your arm. You shrug him off.  
  
“Someone who needs to get the fuck lost,” Karkat says. Terezi walks forward until she is standing in front of Doc, towering over him. She matches Crowbar’s height, and you think it probably pisses him off.  
  
“What kind of trouble is he in?” Terezi asks, as if she doesn’t already know.  
  
“He owes us a bit of money,” Doc answers. “Unless you are here to convince him to pay his debt - or to pay it for him - I suggest that you find somewhere else to be.”  
  
“I can’t convince you to let him go?” Terezi asks. “I don’t think you’re going to get much money if you beat him until he can’t walk.”  
  
“Unfortunately, I agree with her,” Karkat says.  
  
“Karkat has had plenty of time to pay us back,” Doc says. “He owes us a few thousand dollars.”  
  
Crowbar speaks up. “I’d say that tossing Karkat around is worth a couple grand.”  
  
You and Karkat are still separated from Terezi by the three men, but they are all facing toward Terezi and away from the two of you. Everyone is tense, you are still in handcuffs, and you can’t trust anyone in this bar but yourself. So you do what you can.  
  
You launch yourself off the stool and into Crowbar, knocking him sideways into Doc and forward into Terezi. Doc’s other man turns back and swings at Karkat, who moved forward as soon as you made contact with Crowbar. The last thing you see before running toward the door is the man twist Karkat’s arm around as Terezi’s fist connects with Doc’s face. The bartender yells, and she isn’t the only one - most of the bar’s patrons are up on their feet, watching the action.  
  
You push open the door with your shoulder, and soon you are out in the open. Your hands are still bound in front of you, and you can only hope that someone doesn’t think to grab you. You know that you need to get off the street, but you don’t know where to go without attracting unwanted attention.  
  
The pavement below your feet is cracked and unreliable, but you run heedlessly all the same. There isn’t a shortage of people outside - you _are_ in the city - and it shouldn't be too hard to get lost in a crowd.  
  
You don’t duck into any alleyways this time, but you do enter the nearest department store. You don’t glance twice at the security guard manning the door, but he sees you well enough. He grabs you by the sleeve of your coat, dragging you back outside.  
  
“I don’t think so,” he says, pushing you away from the door. You stumble a few feet. You know that you have to find somewhere else to hide - and fast - but you take a moment to flip off the guard.  
  
Having taken care of that point of order, you run to the end of the block and turn the corner. You quickly see a police officer on the other side of the street. Deciding that you aren’t really in the mood to deal with whatever him seeing you would entail, you double back, which turns out to be a mistake.  
  
Karkat stands in front of you. He’s sporting a black eye and a bloody nose, but he is still upright and pissed as hell. You wonder what Doc and his men look like. You also wonder how mad the bartender is.  
  
You make to run away, but Karkat is again too quick for you. He gets you in a headlock, and your panicked punches to his side don’t seem to be doing much.  
  
“Let her go.”  
  
Karkat releases you immediately, and you resist your urge to grin at Terezi.  
  
“Hey, Pyrope,” you say, still a little unsure of where you stand with her.  
  
Her lips are drawn into a tight line. “Hello, Serket,” she returns. “You ran off.”  
  
You shrug, and the action is almost sheepish. “Yeah.”  
  
She gives you a half nod, as if that is as much of an answer as she needs. Then she turns to Karkat.  
  
“Are you alright?” she asks.  
  
“I’m fine,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks down. “Thanks for helping me out.”  
  
So, apparently they don’t hate each other anymore - or perhaps they never hated each other to begin with. Frankly, you don’t give a shit.  
  
Terezi is still facing Karkat. “How did you track me?”  
  
Karkat doesn’t take much time to hesitate. He answers, “I put a tracker and bug on your phone.”  
  
“ _What_ phone?”  
  
“The one in your car.”  
  
Terezi pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re kidding!”  
  
“No,” Karkat says, having the decency to look a little embarrassed.  Then he says, "I know this probably isn't the best time to ask, but do you think I could meet you out there? I'm kind of really fucking broke.”

“If you _must_ -”  
  
You clear your throat, and they both startle - they had somehow forgotten you, which kind of actually pisses you off.  
  
“I’m starving,” you say.  
  
Terezi nods to you, and Karkat reaches to remove your handcuffs. You sigh in relief, but it’s premature - your wrists are only freed for a moment before Terezi brings out her own pair and takes a step toward you.  
  
You take a step back, but Karkat reaches out and grabs you. Panicked, you say, “You can let me go! Karkat will leave me the fuck alone. Right?”  
  
Karkat nods, but Terezi shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Vriska,” she says. “But I have a job to do, and your ancestor is a dangerous woman.”  
  
Your heart is sinking, and your doubt of Terezi is only growing. “You said that you wanted to let me go, and now you can!”  
  
“I wasn’t thinking rationally.”  
  
You twist away from Karkat, but Terezi grabs you by the wrist. Struggling, you say, “I’m going to rationally put my foot up your-”  
  
Terezi wrestles you still with ease. Her face remains impassive.  
  
“Let me go!” you screech. “Fuck you! Let me go!”  
  
Terezi manages to cuff one of your wrists. You feel nauseous and betrayed, but it doesn't keep you from acting - you elbow her in the kidney as hard as you possibly can. She doubles over and releases you; Karkat calls out, but you’re already running.  
  
You run out into the street. It isn’t the brightest idea, but you figure that it won’t be easy to follow you. You’re pretty wrong about that - Terezi isn’t exactly a cautious troll. She tackles you to the ground as car horns sound around you.  
  
“Fuck,” you say. That’s it: fuck. Your trust in Terezi was misplaced, and now her foster brother is helping her handcuff you yet again. _Fuck_ isn’t really enough to capture the entire feeling of the thing, but it comes pretty damn close.  
  
It isn’t long before you are shoved in Terezi’s car again. She manages to avoid your gaze the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to let Terezi punch Doc Scratch in the face tbh
> 
> also...welcome back...to Angst-Town


	8. Chapter 8

Terezi throws her phone out the window the minute you two get moving. It’s incredibly unnecessary, because Karkat is done tracking her - and she’s a bounty hunter, not a damn spy.

Terezi’s pissed. This in itself is enough to make you pissed, because Terezi doesn’t _deserve_  to be pissed - _you_ were the one who had been given false hope and had it ripped away the second it appeared to be something more than hope. And _Terezi_ was the one who gave you that hope. She’s also the one who took it away from you, and the reason why it needed to exist in the first place.

You have no sympathy for Terezi and her anger.

You can’t even figure out what she's mad at. Sure, you ran off and elbowed her in the kidney or whatever, but you can’t be blamed for that. Considering the circumstances, your reaction seems quite fucking understandable, actually.

You question her about it. Relentlessly. You ask her if she had ever meant it when she said she’d let you go, and if she did, what made her change her mind. You ask her if you had done something, or if she was always planning to take you to your ancestor no matter what. You ask her why she felt the need to lie, if that was the case.

She faces the road with her unseeing, burning, red eyes. Her expression is stony and unreadable, and you feel like an idiot for ever believing that she was a good person.

You tell her that. She doesn't respond.

The truth is that you feel like an idiot for ever believing _anyone_ was a good person. The truth is that you feel like an idiot.

The highway that would lead you straight to the coast is backed up thanks to multiple accidents, so Terezi heads south. She drives for hours - not stopping, not speaking.

You can still feel the knife in your pocket. Terezi faces the road.

You consider stabbing her. And then you think about Aradia, Tavros, and your metal arm - and then the car breaks down as Terezi is driving through a mountain pass.

You almost laugh.

Terezi tries to start the car a few times, but the engine only sputters uselessly. You think again about the knife as Terezi gets out of the car, grabs her bag, and drags you with her, walking up the road in hopes of reaching somewhere that has a phone.

She doesn’t speak to you.

* * *

See, the thing about civilization is this: over the sweeps, humans and trolls have learned to tolerate one another. There are some lingering age-old discrepancies, both minor and major, but you coexist. Generally speaking, you get along. You were adopted by humans, for fuck’s sake.

But here’s the thing about subjugglators: they do not give a shit about civilization. Not even a little bit.

The other thing about subjugglators is that most of them are absolutely, pants-shittingly terrifying. Some can grow to be twenty feet tall. They can rip a car in half and only work up a bit of a sweat. They can, have, and will attack those of any species.

They are the stuff of nightmares, especially now that they have no law to support them and no law to execute. They live in forests, mountains, and caves, taking their unsanctioned rage out on any creature that is unfortunate enough to get too close.

The worst subjugglator attacks happen when the weather is terrible. It makes them agitated; there is nothing funny about bad weather. And, while Terezi is dragging you around and being pissed as hell, the rain is coming down in sheets.

The rain started five minutes after you began walking. Terezi refused to double back, not that she said anything about it to you - she just kept walking.

There is forestry to the left and right of the road, which stretches in front of you until it curves out of sight up ahead.

“Terezi!” you call. You yell, because you have to - the sound of the wind and rain is nearly deafening.

She doesn’t stop walking, so you do. She turns her head, sniffing over her shoulder - how she noticed your absence, you don’t know - before stopping in her tracks. Bound in front of you, your hands are freezing.

Terezi stomps over to you, actually _stomps_ , and seeing the physical manifestations of her anger only serves to make _you_ angrier.

“We need to move!” she shouts, leaning close so her words can be heard.

You shake your head. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say. “You’re fucking crazy!”

She scowls, and your mouth goes dry. “It’s pouring,” she points out, her voice masking the emotion that her face doesn’t.

“No shit!” you respond, shrill. Your face is inches from hers. “You need to answer my questions!”

“What we _need_ ,” she says, stepping even closer to accommodate her lowered voice, “is to get out of this goddamn rain. I can hardly smell anything.”

“Fine,” you say. Water drips down her hair and on to your face, and your heart has seemed to relocate itself to your throat. “Then we should get back to the car,” you manage. “We’re not going to get anywhere in this shit.”

Terezi inhales deeply. Without a word, she steps backward and away from you. She turns around and starts walking again.

You run after her. “Terezi!” you yell, and this time she turns around immediately. “I don’t fucking deserve this!”

That causes a shift in her expression, but it’s so minute that you can’t decipher it.

“We’re going to find a big tree to stand under!” she tells you, and your shoulders sag in relief.

Terezi waits for you to catch up before starting to move.

You haven’t been moving long, however, when Terezi suddenly stops again. And, because you’re busy thinking about how Terezi's anger might be starting to fade, you run right into her.

“What the fuck?” you start. Terezi holds up a hand to silence you. She still hasn’t turned around.

Her right ear twitches, and you squirm.

“Take these handcuffs off,” you yell-whisper. She doesn’t answer you.

Right then, you hear _something_. It can’t be the same noise Terezi had heard, but it's from the same source. A deep laugh rips through the surrounding trees, echoing off the rocks of the mountains. You’ve never heard a subjugglator’s laugh before - still, the sound is unmistakable.

If you had drunk anything more than a single glass of water in the last twelve hours, you would be pissing yourself right now.

Terezi grabs your arm and starts for the trees to your right.

You can’t figure out which direction the noise came from, and something tells you that Terezi doesn’t know either. Regardless, you have pretty good chances - all you need to do is run in literally any other direction than toward the subjugglator.

Even still, you quickly realize that it is not easy to run through a forest in the mountains. With the added factors of rain, wind, and mortal danger, it is nearly impossible.

Terezi is nearly dragging you. She might be saying something, but all you can hear is your own blood rushing in your ears - no rain, no wind, no twigs or branches that you are tripping over. Just the sound of insignificant noise and the frantic, heavy beating of your own heart.

You’re off any trail that might have existed, which - for the moment - is a good thing. A subjugglator would have a harder time seeing you in thick forestry.

You have no idea where Terezi thinks she’s going, but you let her drag you along anyway. She seems to be scanning the forest as she goes - looking for a place to hide, probably - but with every passing footfall, her head movements become more erratic. She is starting to panic, and realizing this is pretty unhelpful to your already-haywire nerves.

Terezi keeps running, and you keep following. You follow her straight out of the tree line and midway through a clearing before Terezi realizes her mistake.

She stops, then, right in the middle of the clearing. She hesitates, and you can tell what she’s thinking - she can’t decide if she should head back the way she came or continue through to the other side of the clearing. Either way, she knows you need to get out from the open. Either way, she is too late.

It only takes a few seconds for Terezi to make up her mind, but when she turns you around to double back, you two are met with the sight of a subjugglator.

He’s huge and about twelve feet tall. Not as tall as a subjugglator could be, but tall enough to cause every muscle in your body to seize up at once. Terezi tries to tug on your shoulder to get you moving, but your legs aren’t having any of that.

Terezi doesn’t try for too long. By the time he is halfway to you, she has pulled out her sword and is holding it out in front of her, two-handed. The sight intimidates you, but it’s clear that it doesn’t have much of an effect on the subjugglator - beyond pissing him off, that is. This registers with you before it registers with her, and movement returns to your legs.

You yell Terezi’s name before turning and running. You don’t look back to see if she’s following you, but you figure she is. After everything, you doubt she wants to lose her precious bounty. Or die at the hands of a subjugglator.

The truth of the matter is that you have no delusions that you are going to outrun this giant monster of a troll, and you are proven justified in your thinking. You don’t even reach the tree line.

Just as Terezi outpaces you, you are grabbed by your shirt collar and thrown backward. One moment, you’re in the air - the next, you are landing on your back. The wind is knocked out of you and your tongue is bleeding from biting it on impact. There is also mud all over the back of your clothes and head, but you don’t find much time to care about that.

There is no way for you to get off the ground quickly, but the sight that you're greeted with when you manage to lift your head out of the mud sure motivates you to try.

Terezi sprints along the tree line, not running away as any sane troll would do. She weaves in and out of the trees, just barely avoiding the angry swipes of the subjugglator. She is yelling something, but you can’t make it out - your ears are still ringing from your fall, and rain is still pouring down from the sky.

You push yourself off the ground - or you try to, at least. You’re still handcuffed, and you slip in the mud beneath you three times before you manage to get on your knees.

In your confusion, you don’t stop to think about _why_  Terezi is still here. From what you know, losing your life wouldn't come at the cost of her own. Even if she misses out on her reward because of your death, there will be more bounties for her in the future than there would be if she dies. You don’t stop to consider this as you manage to stand up, one foot after the other, your shoes landing squarely in the mud.

You can hear what Terezi is saying now. She’s telling you to run.

Terezi comes out of the tree line again. The subjugglator is ready for her this time, and you’re running at them before he even has her neck in one of his hands.

You don’t think about what you’re doing, and you don’t have any sort of plan. For the second time today, you find yourself using the only thing you have - yourself - as a weapon. You launch your body into the back of the subjugglator.

On the way down, you can’t keep your balance, slipping and falling again. Your wrists are bleeding now from where the handcuffs cut against them.

The subjugglator _roars_ , turning around to face you. Terezi is flung to the side and forgotten - you have become his target, now.

You close your eyes, reaching your bound hands up in a useless attempt to protect yourself. Every muscle in your body is tense, because you’ve done what you can. You’ve done what you can, and you are about to die in a forest and you probably deserve it after every awful, horrible thing you’ve done.

The subjugglator stands over you. The rain is no longer falling on your face.

You don’t open your eyes until you hear him scream.

Terezi is on his back, the blade of her sword pressed clean through his chest. She twists the blade a full 360 degrees, and he starts to fall forward.

You must have some clarity, because you have the mind to roll away before the subjugglator is able to land on you and break every bone in your body. You stop rolling when you hear him hit the ground in an unmistakable _thump,_  no more than a foot away from you. You lie on your stomach, unmoving, the side of your face pressed into the mud.

Beyond the noise of the weather, it’s silent. You lie on the ground and listen to the sound of the wind and the rain.

Half a minute passes before you hear another noise - the sound of Terezi’s boots squelching in the mud as she makes her way over to you. You hear it, but you don’t necessarily register it - it's just another background noise, just on the edge of your consciousness.

It isn’t until she kneels down and smooths your hair - caked in mud - out of your face that you really understand that Terezi is there with you.

“Vriska,” she says, her voice as soft as you’ve ever heard it.

You realize you’re crying, but you don’t have the energy to be mad at yourself for it. You don’t know if Terezi can tell, because the rain probably does a good job of hiding it.

“You need to get up,” Terezi tells you, and you agree. But you want to stay here and lie in the mud forever. When you don’t move, she tilts your head up by your chin so you can see her concerned and upset expression. “You’ll get sick.”

Again, you agree with her. But your crying has turned into something between laughing and sobbing, and any attempt you make to move doesn’t work very well. There is no way that Terezi hasn’t noticed your crying by now, but she doesn’t comment on it. She only rolls you over on to your back and unlocks the handcuffs around your wrists, grimacing when she notices your blood.

She pulls out bandages and a water bottle after putting the handcuffs away in her bag. Then, she uses the water to clean away some of the mud from your wrists. The bandages come next, already soaked through by the rain.

After she does all she can, Terezi stands. She hauls you up and supports your weight with your arm thrown over her shoulders, and then she starts walking.

* * *

You wake up, eventually. You don’t have any memory of falling unconscious, though you suppose you wouldn’t.

You’re in the car, wrapped in a sweater of Terezi’s. You’re on the move again, on the same long and empty road that you were traveling on before. It’s dark.

Terezi speaks when you shift in your seat. “The car started when I got us back to it,” she explains, voice quiet and scratchy. “It just needed a break, I guess.”

You’re shaking. Terezi hesitates.

“Vriska,” she says, slow, as if she is speaking to a skittish animal. It makes you shake more.

“Were you ever going to let me go?” you ask. You look at her, now.

She closes her eyes and breathes like it pains her. “I don’t know.”

You’re cold, but you pull off Terezi’s sweater because it smells like her. You throw it in the backseat. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” you say.

“Didn’t you, though?” Terezi snaps.

You glare at the side of her head. “You know what I meant.”

After a long silence, Terezi says, “The bounty on you is legal. Mindfang could just hire another bounty hunter to come get you.”

Terezi grips the steering wheel tightly, her head turned away from you.

“She might just let you go if you ask her,” Terezi continues. “If not, you’ll be of legal age in less than a sweep. You could take it up with the courts if you don’t want to wait that long. You would have a strong case!”

“Or you could just not take me to her to begin with,” you ground out. The numbness and your shaking is starting to clear, and anger is spreading through your blood like a fire. “Maybe she won’t want me to leave! I can’t _take it up_  with the fucking _courts_  if I’m dead!”

Terezi shakes her head. “You won’t die.”

“You’re the one who told me she’s dangerous!” you yell. Terezi flinches, and it gives you a sick sense of satisfaction. “What the hell is your _actual_  reasoning, Terezi? Why are you doing this?”

You can just barely make out the clench of Terezi’s jaw, illuminated by the lights on the dashboard. Your questions are only met with silence.

Scoffing, you say, “You should’ve let me die.”

Terezi is tense - though it seems like she always is.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m going to die anyway,” you respond. “I’m not staying with her. I won’t. I’ve gotten into enough trouble in my life.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” you demand. Your hands, bound together by metal that is chafing against the scabs that are forming under your bandages, are in fists. “Do you actually care?”

Again, silence.

“Yeah,” you say. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

“I have a goddamn job to do!” Terezi yells, swerving to the side of the road. She parks and turns the key in the ignition until the car’s engine goes silent.

The rain pounds away at the windshield. The headlights shine on the road and trees in front of you for a minute before they shut off.

Terezi sighs, leaning forward until her head rests on the steering wheel. Her eyes are closed. The sight causes a pang in your chest, and you try to crush the feeling.

“I can’t afford to feel sorry for you,” she says, her forehead still resting on top of the wheel. “The second I do that is the second I forfeit my control. A bounty hunter’s job is not to feel sorry for people.”

“So don’t be a bounty hunter!” you explode. “All this talk about how bounty hunter’s can’t do this, or how this is the first job that left you _conflicted_  or _whatever_ -the-fuck - but no one told you to be a bounty hunter! You didn’t have to be a bounty hunter, and you didn’t have to take this job!”

“I can’t do anything else!” she returns. She still doesn’t turn toward you, and her eyes are screwed shut so tightly that you worry she’ll never open them again.

“You haven’t _tried_  anything else,” you choke out, and it sounds like you’re pleading with her.

“I’m good at fighting,” she says, “and I’m good at moving. I’m good at playing by easy rules. I’m good at tracking down lowlifes who have a debt to pay. That’s what I’m good at! Carrying out - oh, I don’t know! Carrying out...comfortable justice.”

“Well, I hope this _justice_  is _comfortable_  enough for you,” you spit. “Because it’s my life on the line!”

She smiles at you, then, and it’s pained. “I know,” she says. “That’s the worst part.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now That’s What I Call Angst!
> 
> This was my favorite chapter to write when I was writing the initial novel. I think I actually wrote it right after I wrote the beginning of the story, lmao. Hopefully it translated alright! 
> 
> Anyway, we’re in the home stretch, folks.


	9. Chapter 9

Terezi drives the rest of the way straight through.

You wake up from a light, troubled sleep to find Terezi with a map spread open on her lap. As soon as you think to tell her that she looks ridiculous with how she’s bent over, her head comically close to the map, she leans back and begins folding it up.

“We’re going to be there soon,” she says, sticking the map in the center console with one hand as she steers back onto the road with the other.

Your heart rate picks up, and you will yourself not to panic. You look down and notice that your bandages have been switched out under the handcuffs.

“You didn’t sleep?” you ask through a dry throat. You frankly don’t give a shit, but you desperately need a distraction.

“No,” she answers, blunt and exhausted.

Your eyes drift out the passenger window and find it dark outside. Even still, you see shipping crates and busy workers; beyond that, you see water, docks, and impressive boats.

You take a guess. You ask, “Have you ever been to West Port?”

“I was born here,” she says.

You latch onto her words like a lifeline.

“Really?” you ask. Terezi glances over at you, concerned, and you don’t blame her. You’re pretty fucking worried about yourself, too.

“Really,” she confirms. “I lived inland a bit - more in the forest.”

Here Terezi is, answering your questions like it’s not extremely dangerous for her to do so. Whether it’s because she feels sorry for you or because she trusts you enough to, you squash down whatever hope that threatens to resurface. You don’t have time for that right now.

It isn’t long before Terezi turns off the main road and onto a dirt one, headed vaguely in the direction of the water. You can’t see the end of the road, but you know that it isn’t going to go on forever.

“I didn’t get to talk to John again,” you realize. You don’t mention your parents - you’re not sure you’ll be able to forgive them for being complicit in this fuckery.

Terezi winces. You probably could’ve talked to him if she hadn’t thrown her only phone out the car window.

“John?” she questions.

“My friend,” you say. “He’s an asshole. I love him.”

“Oh.”

“He might as well be family,” you babble, nerves getting the best of you. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. He helped me get through some...stuff.”

Terezi clears her throat before saying, “He sounds nice.”

“He’s an asshole,” you say again.

“Right.”

After that, the two of you go silent. The road curves in front of you, and when Terezi goes around the bend, the vegetation on the side of the road opens up to show a bustling complex, almost like a small village, if shipping warehouses replaced houses and shops. It’s all fenced off with barbed wire and a mechanical gate to match.

“Fuck,” you say.

“Vriska,” Terezi murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to do this,” you say. “So, no. You’re not fucking sorry.”

The gate has a kiosk in front of it, and Terezi pulls up. She examines the keypad, and then an intercom. Just as Terezi reaches over to press the button that activates the intercom, a voice filters out of the speaker.

“State your business.”

“I’m here to see Mindfang,” Terezi answers. “I have her descendant.”

The response comes in the form of a buzzing noise, and then the gate is swinging back. Terezi swallows and slowly drives forward, her left hand reaching down to brush over the head of the cane - like she's checking to make sure it’s still there.

“You’re not planning on stabbing anyone, are you?” you ask, your tone almost accusatory.

“Ideally, no!” she says. “But I have a feeling that these people won’t like me very much.”

Terezi doesn’t get very far through the gate before a jeep rolls up in front of the car, preventing Terezi from driving forward. There is a single man in the jeep, and he jumps out and walks over to you. He’s a troll - looking around, you see that almost everyone inside the gate is a troll. It makes sense, considering the hour - and considering that West Port is in troll country.

The troll has what appears to be a harpoon gun slung over his shoulder. He saunters toward the car, and when he peers in Terezi’s already open window, you quickly see that he’s sneering. He’s an obvious sea dweller, so his disdain doesn’t come as a shock.

“Pyrope?” he questions, and Terezi gives a curt nod. His eyes drift over to you and the corners of his mouth lift up.

You decidedly do not want to be here.

“Mindfang’s missin’ an eye too,” he says. “She’ll get a kick out of that.”

You’re not sure if you’re meant to respond, so you don’t. Something about this guy makes you incredibly uneasy.

He leans further into Terezi’s car. You watch her jaw clench. He eyes her cane, then her glasses, and then he lets out a low whistle through his teeth. “You really _are_ blind,” he observes. “Fuckin’ incredible.”

“It really is,” Terezi says.

The troll either doesn’t pick up on her tone, or he chooses to ignore it. He leans back out of the car, gesturing to the side of the dirt road. “Park,” he orders. “I’ll take you where you need to go.”

* * *

It turns out that Mindfang might be more than a criminal; she might be a ringleader.

The troll - who introduces himself as Dualscar - doesn’t use the word _ringleader_. He says something along the lines of _she’s someone who’s looked to for leadership_ , and he says it with a touch of bitterness.

You don’t do much more than rub your eyes when you find out about that piece of information, because of fucking course. You don’t know why you would expect things to turn out in your favor, ever.

Dualscar talks about West Port in that low, snide voice of his - but you’re only half-listening. He sits shoulder to shoulder with you as you drive through the winding dirt road through the complex, pointing out various buildings and people of importance. You don’t know the shipping industry, but you have a feeling that Dualscar is only giving you half the story. You glance back at Terezi every so often, but she seems committed to ignoring you.

Her reaction only adds insult to injury, but you think you understand. Terezi is hell-bent on becoming some broody instrument of the law even though she doesn’t have to, and you figure that actually giving a shit about you would get in the way of that.

A woman - again, a troll - waves to Dualscar, who gives you her name before pulling over. He starts to rattle off her job or title or whatever when you cut him off.

“Do I have to stay?”

His mouth twists into a scowl - probably at being interrupted - but he only asks, “What do you mean?”

“Here,” you clarify. “With Mindfang. Do I have to stay?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” he says, laughing a little condescendingly. He sniffs. “Not my business.”

Dualscar hops out of the jeep and talks to the woman, whose name has already managed to escape you. You startle when you feel a hand on your shoulder and a voice in your ear.

“Do you think you could hold off on your questions until I leave?”

Scowling, you return, “It’s not like _you_  have any concern for _my_  safety.”

Terezi leans away from you. You’d be sorry for it, had you not decided to be perpetually pissed off at her.

You see Dualscar wave in your direction, and you watch as the other troll eyes you with interest. You turn your head away before saying, “That guy gives me the creeps.”

“He does seem rather unpleasant!” Terezi agrees.

You both become quiet as Dualscar makes his way back over. He climbs in the jeep, and then you’re back to driving.

* * *

Dualscar follows the road all the way to the water. There are nearly a dozen boats of varying sizes at the docks. Most of them _look_  like what they’re supposed to be - except for one ship, looking more like it holds pirates than it does any legal goods.

It’s Mindfang’s ship. At this point, you don’t expect anything less.

Dualscar speaks strangely of Mindfang, like he is both impressed by her particular tastes and disdainful that she would force everyone else to deal with those particular tastes. But you guess there really is no other way to speak of someone who owns a fucking pirate ship.

You, Terezi, and Dualscar walk down the dock and toward the ship. The dock is narrow - but still, Dualscar puts distance between himself and Terezi. You gravitate toward Terezi, not really trusting Dualscar's pointed smiles and uneasy demeanor. As pissed off as you’re trying to be at her, you much prefer Terezi’s sharp smiles over his.

You look to Terezi and she doesn’t turn away from you, for once. She gives you what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring smile, but there’s something else in her expression that takes away from it. You’re surprised to see sadness in her face, and maybe fear.

Facing forward, you feel a mixture of sympathy and anger. On the one hand, Terezi is locked in with what is probably a bunch of criminals, and she is clearly distrusted by Dualscar. On the other hand, you feel like she doesn’t have a _right_  to be afraid, with all the bullshit she’s put you through.

It is all very complicated and messy. And really fucking irritating.

Once you’ve boarded the ship, Dualscar nods at two trolls who seem to be guarding the entrance before leading you down a tight hallway, up some stairs on to the main deck, and then to the rear of the ship.

Unlike on land, no one looks twice at you when you pass them by. You can’t figure out if this is frightening or reassuring. You don’t need people staring at you and shit - but you are, after all, kind of a big deal.

Dualscar stops short of a locked, wooden door. He looks back at you before knocking twice. You hear heavy footfalls, and soon the door is swinging open.

The troll who answers the door - Mindfang, you figure - towers over both you and Terezi. She outmatches Dualscar in height - but so do you.

She, like Dualscar, is dressed more ornately than the other trolls you’ve seen around. She frowns upon seeing Dualscar, but her expression quickly changes when she sees you. She smiles wide with two pointed canines, just like yours. She takes a step toward you, and you take a step back - right into Terezi.

Terezi doesn’t make a sound; she stands there, impassive.

Mindfang pauses. Tilts her head. “I apologize,” she says. “I am just very glad to finally meet you.”

Dualscar watches the entire exchange with an unnerving grin, like he knows something you don’t. Mindfang’s eyes sweep over Terezi and her smile fades just enough to be noticeable.

“Thank you for bringing her to me,” she says.

Terezi makes no response. Her hand reaches the small distance between the two of you and lightly touches your back. You don’t know what to make of it, but you are glad for her presence - not that you would admit it.

“Cronus,” Mindfang drawls, and Dualscar bristles. “Please escort the bounty hunter to get her reward. After that, she will need to leave the property.”

And just like that, you’re in a panic. Recently, you’ve spent the majority of your time trying to get away from Terezi. But now that you’re faced with the prospect of her leaving, you find that it’s the furthest thing from what you want.

Terezi must sense it, or something, because she moves her hand from your back to squeeze your shoulder.

With a scowl, Dualscar motions for Terezi to follow him. She squeezes your shoulder again, and then she lets go and walks away.

You turn halfway around, but you stop yourself. You’re not sure what you want to do, but you don't get a chance to decide - it’s not long before Terezi’s entirely out of your sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two chapters left. Thanks for sticking with me!


	10. Chapter 10

Mindfang doesn’t lead you very far into her quarters. You sit on the couch she motions toward, and she sits on a chair off to your side.

You cross your legs and your arms.

“I’ll have to give you a tour of the ship later,” Mindfang says, and her grin is back in full-force. “Until then, let’s talk. Would you like anything to drink?”

So far, Mindfang seems nice enough. But there’s something about her that sets you on edge - and you know it’s more than the fact that she looks a lot like you.

She looks a lot like you, but she also looks impressive in areas that you don’t. Her horns are much taller, as is her stature in general; her clothes are well-tailored and her actions are certain. You feel small and unsure next to her, especially as she surveys you.

But she asked you a question.

“No,” you answer.

If that was some sort of test, it seems you’ve passed - she still looks pleased.

“I’m sorry for going to such measures to get you here,” she says. “But it’s tricky for someone of my position to go wandering around the continent, and the courts were not an option - you know how they are.”

You _do_  know how they are, but you doubt you know like she does. You nod anyway.

“It must have been terrible riding around with that bounty hunter,” Mindfang continues, shaking her head. “I would have avoided it if I could.” She leans forward and her smile widens, like you two are sharing a secret. “Though I’m sure it wasn’t much worse than your situation before.”

You try not to squirm. “What do you mean?”

Her smile widens conspiratorially and she _winks._ You feel the beginnings of anger bubble beneath your skin.

“I had to do a little research to find you, of course,” she says. “I read the details of your arrest - I can only imagine what you had to go through!”

There’s still something you’re missing. You ask, “You think I’m innocent?”

That pulls a laugh out of her, smooth and low. “Of course not! I think you’ve been shamed and berated by a world that doesn’t understand what it takes to get ahead.”

You grit your teeth. “And what does it take?”

“Courage,” Mindfang responds, grave. “It takes courage, ambition, and determination. And those _savages_  you lived with for sweeps no doubt allowed you to be punished for having those qualities.”

“I ruined lives,” you growl. Saying it aloud has you nauseous.

This time, Mindfang doesn’t laugh. “That’s right,” she says, after a pause. “I suppose they would have conditioned you.”

When you don’t respond, Mindfang declares, “But don’t you fret! You’ll come to realize your misfortune in time. I think you will integrate quite well here, with a little guidance.”

You think you have had plenty of time to realize your misfortune.

“What happened with my adoption?” you ask, cutting right to the chase.

“There was no adoption,” Mindfang answers, just as frank. “You were stolen.”

“By who?”

“I’m not sure,” Mindfang admits. “Some degenerate who was looking to make some quick coin, if I had to guess.” After a pause, she adds, “I was...quite upset. I had big plans.”

You don’t really care. In fact, the more Mindfang talks, the less you care about what she has to say.

“But let us not talk about such depressing things,” she continues, grinning. “Let me ask you this: do you like traveling, Vriska?”

“I’m all traveled out, actually,” you say bitterly, before you can stop yourself. “I hope you paid Terezi well enough, because I didn’t get the chance to thank her for giving me a fucking tour of the continent.”

At that, Mindfang’s smile wavers slightly. “Terezi?”

You clench your fists. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that Mindfang didn’t learn her name. “The bounty hunter,” you clarify.

“Ah, yes. Pyrope.”

“Yeah,” you say. You sigh, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. “Pyrope.”

On the journey to West Port, you had your fears, but you also had your curiosities. You know that meeting your ancestor is a privilege that not many trolls get to experience, and you’ve always wondered what yours was like.

You find that you’re no longer curious about the subject. Mindfang obviously has plans to make you part of her crime empire, or something, and you're not interested. You might’ve felt differently if she had sprung this on you at an earlier time in your life - you fucking guess - but you’ve had enough, as it stands.

And part of you is worried about disappointing Terezi, which is as stupid as it is irritating - she hasn’t done a damn thing for you in the short time you’ve known her. But the worry is there.

“I want to leave,” you say, looking up at Mindfang, and it wipes the remainder of her smile right off her face.

After a moment, she asks, “Leave to where, exactly?”

You’re not meant to answer. You say, “Home.”

“To what home?” she asks, and her smile is back. “The home with the humans who aren’t your parents? Who have no legal right to you, and who I could have arrested with a single phone call? The home with people who want nothing to do with you, since you killed and maimed their other friends?”

You’re not proud of yourself for the silence that follows, but Mindfang’s managed to stun you. She doesn’t look angry, either - she still has that easy, unnerving smile.

“If you feel the same way after you’re of age,” she continues, “there’s nothing I can do to stop you from leaving.” Then, she adds, “That being said, I’m sure you’ll reconsider. You will find that being by my side is rather...lucrative. I’m not sure what that bounty hunter _filth_  said about me-”

You’re on your feet in a flash. “She didn’t have to tell me anything,” you say through your teeth. “I can see how you are.”

“And _how_ , is it, that you see me?” Mindfang asks, still in her seat. “Perhaps you see something familiar?”

You don’t have a response, but you do have a headache from how mad you are. You’re getting pretty tired of being mad, because it’s kind of really fucking exhausting, but you aren’t quite done yet.

You head toward the door. Mindfang doesn’t get up until you have it open, and a gust of salty air whips through her quarters.

Even with her late start, you don’t make it very far out the door before Mindfang stops you with a hand around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Let go,” you demand, trying to twist out of her grip.

She holds on tight, pulling you close to her. You push at her.

“Let me go!” you yell. Your wrist is starting to burn at your wounds. “I’m not fucking staying here.”

Your shouting has attracted the attention of quite a few trolls. Mindfang says something about you embarrassing her as they form a little half-circle around you two, exchanging concerned and curious expressions. Someone asks Mindfang is she’s alright, and she waves them off.

“This your descendant, Captain?” one of the trolls asks.

“No,” you say, finally wrenching your wrist away from Mindfang’s grip. “Us looking the same is just a fucking coincidence.”

The same troll steps forward, now with a sneer on his face. “Want us to take care of her?” he asks Mindfang. “How about the hole?”

You have no idea what the fucking _hole_  is, but it sounds incredibly unpleasant. Regardless, you’re undeterred.

“Fuck right off,” you tell him. Your eyes sweep over the rest of the trolls. “Fuck you!” you say. “Fuck all of you!”

The crowd erupts into shouts. _Good_.

Mindfang tries to calm them, but by now, more trolls have joined the crowd. They’re shouting at you, inching closer, but none of them actually make a move at you. You stand your ground.

“Mindfang!” someone shouts over the clamor. You and Mindfang look to the source of the noise - Dualscar.

“We have a fuckin' problem,” Dualscar says, once he’s near enough. Mindfang looks at him like he’s stupid, and you think that he probably is.

“Does this not look like a problem to you?”

“This is a bigger problem,” Dualscar responds.

You don’t have time to hear what the problem actually is, because the crowd begins acting up again. Soon you’re ripped away from Mindfang, who shouts for them to stop - but the group’s calling for blood. Or the hole, which you figure is probably similar in principle. Apparently Mindfang doesn’t have as much authority as you thought.

You stumble back when someone pushes you, and then you’re on the ground. The troll standing over you - the same one you had taunted earlier - is in the middle of a kick to your head when he is pushed away by someone that you are embarrassingly happy to see.

“I can’t believe you managed to piss this many people off in the ten minutes since I’ve left you,” Terezi says, hauling you up. There’s a short pause before she says, “Actually, yes, I can!”

A troll to her right swings at her, and she ducks out of the way before bringing her still-sheathed cane down onto his side. He doubles over, but two others are already coming at her. She doesn’t hesitate, grabbing your hand and starting in a sprint.

You glance over your shoulder and see that at least a quarter of the crowd is chasing after you. Mindfang isn’t among them; she stands back, looking both furious and impressed.

Terezi tends to move quicker than you, but the sight of your pursuers has you matching her pace.

“You came back for me,” you huff, short of breath and a little dazed.

“I changed my mind,” she responds, sounding much better off than you do. “These people are crazy!”

“You couldn’t have decided that earlier?” you hiss. “Like, possibly before we got here? Or maybe before you abducted me? _Perhaps_?”

“They tried to skimp on my payment,” she says, ignoring your protests. “When I challenged them, Dualscar tried to shoot me with his dumb harpoon gun.”  
  
“So you only changed your mind when _your_  life was in danger,” you wheeze.

“I came back for you, didn’t I?” she says, sounding frustrated. “If I were only concerned for myself, I wouldn’t have come back for you at all.”

Right then, a heavy mass whizzes past your head. You whip around to see who decided it would be a good idea to throw things at you, but Terezi pulls you roughly along.

“Stop slowing down!”

“They threw a rock at me!”

“They threw a rock at both of us,” Terezi says. “And they’ll do a whole lot more than that!”

The complex hadn’t seemed very big when Dualscar was driving you through it, but now that you’re on foot, it seems a lot bigger. You and Terezi are managing to put some distance between you and the crowd, but you know that you can easily be overtaken by someone in front of you.

You two stick to the main road through the complex, which is probably the smartest idea - there is only one way out that you know of, and a straight shot through might keep anyone from flanking and blocking you off. But, even though it seems to be the smart idea, it turns out to be the wrong one.

Trolls are already waiting for you at the gate, and four people guard Terezi’s car. Two have rifles in their hands.

Terezi leads you off the road and toward a row of buildings. Most look unoccupied - Terezi picks one at what seems to be random. As you approach, however, you see that it’s not random at all.

The side of the building is lined with a loading dock, with three garage doors to match. One of the garage doors is cracked enough - if you crawled, you could make it.

Instead of crawling under, Terezi stops you a few feet away. It gives you both some time to catch a breath - but you both know that there’s not much time to waste.

“Vriska,” she starts, and you can’t help but notice that she’s a lot less out of breath than you are. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

Before you can stop yourself, you say, “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific. Terezi swallows and you shake your head, mostly at yourself. You add, “Thanks for coming back.”

“It’s not going to mean much if we die!” she says, a bit unnecessarily. “I don’t really have a plan.”

“Stabbing your way out of here isn’t a good enough plan?” you ask, smiling despite the situation.

Terezi stills for a moment, and you know why - even you can hear the shouts in the distance. Terezi grabs your hand and leads you right up to the garage door. You don’t think to tell her that you can walk just fine on your own, because that would probably involve her letting go of your hand.

“Get inside,” she says, urgent.

You bend down, but she makes no move to follow you. You frown and stand back up. “Where the hell do _you_ plan on going?”

“We need to split up,” she explains. “No offense, but you’re not exactly in top shape.” She sighs before adding, “Vriska, I can smell your scowl. I said no offense.”

You try to wrestle your facial expression into something a little more neutral. You say, “I’m not offended.”

“Vriska!” she says, and right, there are more important things to worry about. “We need to split up,” she repeats. Gesturing to her vacant eyes, she continues, “While it’s clear that neither of us belong here, you’ll have an easier time hiding than I will. I’ll lead them away and come back for you.”

The sound of the crowd is growing ever closer - you have little time to argue. “Fine,” you ground out. You step forward, narrowing the distance between you to nearly nothing.

You jab your finger into Terezi’s chest. “But you better come back for me.”

“I will,” Terezi promises. Then she puts both her hands on either of your shoulders, tilting her head up slightly at you. “Promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

Your finger is still at her chest, no longer jabbing into her so much as it is resting against her. You can feel Terezi’s breath on your mouth. You wonder what you smell like to her.

You lower your hand - but before you do that, you reach up and push her hands off your shoulders. And then you lean down the short distance to kiss her.

Her lips are slack against yours, and it isn’t until you pull away that she reacts in any way. Once you regain control over your mental processes, you search her expression, uncertain.

“What the heck!” she says.

Well. That doesn’t sound good.

Your eyes widen in time with the sinking feeling in your stomach. “Was I not supposed to do that?”

“Why would you be supposed to do that?” she asks, exasperated.

“Fucking sorry!” you snap. “I won’t do it again, Jesus!”

Inexplicably, Terezi smiles. “I didn’t _hate_  it,” she says. “Maybe we could try another?”

You’re halfway through a nod that you hope doesn’t look too eager when Terezi kisses you shortly. This time, her lips are _decidedly_  not slack. Your face heats up an embarrassing amount, and there’s no way that Terezi doesn’t notice.

Terezi is the one to pull back. “See!” she says, as if she has managed to prove a point. “Things are much better when you use your communication skills, Vriska.”

You stare at her, mouth agape. When you recover, you ask, “ _You_  are telling _me_  about communication?”

She lets out an honest-to-God cackle, but - thankfully - she cuts her own amusement short and pushes you toward the door.

“You never promised me that you won’t do anything stupid,” she says.

“Me doing something stupid is practically guaranteed, sorry.”

“Serket!”

“Okay,” you huff. “I promise.”

Terezi nods once, and then she runs out from the side of the building. Not wasting any time, you get on your stomach, army-crawling under the door.

You just make it into the building when you hear, “There she is!” You freeze, but no one comes - in fact, the noise of the crowd fades. You stand up to your full height.

The soft hue of the night shines in through the cracked garage door, but it’s not enough to provide any kind of meaningful light. You squint in the dark, cursing your diurnal habits.

You don’t _think_  there’s anyone else in the warehouse - you don’t see or hear anyone, anyway. From what you can see, the warehouse is full of textiles and furs and not much else.

Situated in the corner and immediately to your left, you find an office with large glass windows - probably a place to watch over the activity at the loading docks. You consider finding somewhere else to hide, but it’s close to the only exit you know of. Also, you twist the handle at the door and find it unlocked - which is all it takes for you to make your decision.

The office is a small one, and the chair is shitty, but you decide that it’s the best room you’ve ever been in. Your hands are free, you have a place to sit, and you’re alone. You interlock your fingers at the back of your head and throw your feet on the desk.

You’re busy counting your lucky stars when something seriously unlucky happens.

Echoing off the walls, you hear the buzz of a walkie-talkie, followed by someone’s voice, clear as day. You don’t know where the voice is coming from, but you know it’s close, and you know that someone is in the warehouse with you.

You scramble upright, which turns out to be a mistake - you kick the computer monitor _hard_ , and it falls flat on the surface of the desk.

The sound is deafening to you, and you have no doubt that it can be heard throughout the silent warehouse. You stand as still as you can, swaying slightly on your feet. You still can’t see very well.

No one comes bursting in the room, demanding what happened or who you are, and you let out a sigh of relief. You lean against the wall, or at least you try to - the cords to the computer must’ve got caught under your feet; when you move, the monitor comes crashing to the ground, this time, bringing a variety of clutter with it.

It occurs to you that you broke your promise that you wouldn’t do anything stupid, and that you have done so approximately two minutes after making that promise.

You manage to untangle your feet just when you see a troll come around the corner by the furthest loading dock. You freeze again, but this time it’s useless - the troll lets out a gruff, startled, _hey!_ before taking a running start in your direction.

God fucking dammit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> I haven't actually read homestuck in forever and I didn't reread any of Mindfang's journals because I'm lazy as hell. So I apologize if the characterization is off - and if it is, there's only one chapter left, so you won't have to deal with her for much longer.


	11. Chapter 11

You’re running. You’ve done more running in these last few weeks than you’ve done in your entire life. You decide that, when this is all over, if you’re still alive, that you will never run again in your life. You’ve earned it.

You’re running away from a group of trolls lead by your ancestor, who are all probably trying to kill you. You didn’t even know your ancestor was still  _alive_  a few weeks ago, and now she wants you dead, which is fantastic. And by fantastic, you mean fucking horrible.

You’re still sore from the subjugglator attack - along with every other physically demanding thing you’ve been through since being captured. It’s a really shitty time, overall. You wouldn’t recommend it.

The worst thing is that you have absolutely no idea where Terezi is. That asshole kissed you and then left. Sure, you kissed her first, and she said she would be back - but she isn’t back, and you’re going to die.

You figure that you probably deserve this or something.

You’ve managed to make your way into another building. You’re not sure what the purpose of it is, but it must be another warehouse, because you’ve never seen so much shit in your entire life. Judging from its size on the outside, it’s multi-level.

You reach the end of the next corridor and take a left. This building is like a goddamn maze. A goddamn maze, filled with criminals trying to kill you.

The shitty thing about this is that is you could technically be one of these criminals; you were essentially granted membership and you could’ve taken it. All you would've had to do is resign yourself to being the killer that you know you are.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you come up on the next turn. You have two directions to go; this time, you go right, and soon you are at the door to a stairwell.

You don’t want to go up, but you hear loud voices behind you - so you throw open the door and start up the stairs.

Again, you made the wrong choice. You’re just full of wrong choices, apparently.

A troll is waiting for you at the top of the stairs, so you turn on your heels and start down them again. When you make it out the door and onto the first floor again, you almost consider turning around and taking your chances with the other troll.

You’re greeted with the sight of your new least favorite people - Mindfang and Dualscar. Funny how things work out like that. Sometimes the universe just hates you and stuff like this happens.

They are accompanied by a few other trolls, none of which look particularly happy to see you. You’re not all that excited to see them, either.

“Vriska,” Mindfang starts, her voice as if she’s scolding a child. “Your determination is admirable, but I really think you should reconsider your actions.”

“Fuck you.”

Mindfang makes a  _tsk_  noise, which only serves to infuriate you further. “I can see you’re a fighter - which is part of how I know that this is in your blood,” she says.

You grit your teeth. You hear blood rushing in your ears. “I don’t belong here,” you say. Even as you say them, you doubt the truth of your words.

Mindfang, for whatever reason, looks delighted. “Of course you belong here!” she says. “You’re already a criminal, dear - I am sure that young Ms. Megido would attest to that, were she alive. Perhaps we should ask Nitram, instead?”

You do the obvious thing to do when someone is accusing you of being a killer - you bring out the knife that you’ve been keeping in your pocket and you stab her. Four times.

Dualscar and the other trolls are so shocked that you manage to push your way past them. It doesn’t take long for Dualscar to recover, though, and soon he’s grabbed you by your hair. You drop the knife to the ground.

“You fuckin’ bitch-”

And then Terezi cuts him down.

He doesn’t even have time to yell before he’s dead. The other trolls do, but she takes care of them soon enough. Mindfang is still bent over, hands pressing into her own wounds, and Terezi slices through her last. The whole thing is over in less than eight seconds.

“Oh fuck,” you say.

You allow Terezi to take your hand and lead you down the hallway, away from the bloody corpses.

“You didn’t stay where I left you,” she states.

“Yeah,” you say, glancing back again at the still body of your ancestor. “That didn’t really work out.”

You think you see the ghost of a smile at her lips. “Come on,” she says. “Our ride’s outside.”

* * *

It turns out that your ride is Karkat’s truck.

You sit squished between the two of them. It’s only marginally preferable to being chased on foot. You tell Terezi and Karkat this.

“Fuck you,” Karkat responds.

It takes some maneuvering and some waving his sickle out the window, but Karkat gets you safely outside the gate fairly quickly. You turn around, watching until the whole complex disappears around a bend.

Once your heart has stopped beating a million miles an hour, you have enough of a mind to ask, “Where are we going?”

“The airport,” Terezi answers. “You’re going home, Vriska.”

Whatever lingering fear you had from Terezi’s betrayal slips away, and relief washes over you like it hasn’t in a while. And then something occurs to you.

Karkat’s busy grumbling to himself like a fucking freak, so you turn to Terezi. “I don’t suppose you have my ID with you?” you ask. As much as you want to get away from this place, you’d like to do it as legally as possible. It would be pretty impressive to be arrested just after getting in the clear - but if anyone could manage it, it would be you.

Terezi turns her head toward you, her eyebrows raised. “We’re bounty hunters,” she says. “Of course we have your ID.”

Karkat glances over at her. “You have it, right?” he asks. “Because I don’t.”

Terezi remains silent for a good five seconds - for a moment, you’re worried she’ll say something that will have you two walking the rest of the way to the airport - not that you’d blame her.

Finally, she says, “Yes, Karkat. I have her ID.”

* * *

It’s the middle of the day when you arrive at the airport. You and Terezi had practically fallen asleep on each other, and Karkat had to shake the two of you awake.

Even with the time, humans and trolls alike are scurrying about the airport, rushing to catch their flights. Terezi had bought your ticket - she said it was her form of an apology, and you told her that she should buy you the ticket anyway, since she’s the one who abducted you in the first place. She, as usual, did not take very well to the word  _abducted_.

Now she’s off somewhere, and you’re sitting on an uncomfortable chair next to an uncomfortable Karkat. You haven’t told him to fuck off yet, because watching him and Terezi interact is the closest thing to free entertainment you’ve had in a while.

The woman’s voice over the speaker sounds again, warning against leaving bags unattended. You don’t have any bags - all your possessions are in Terezi’s car, abandoned at West Port. You are once again reduced to the clothes off your back.

Karkat has been giving you sidelong looks and fidgeting in his seat for the last ten minutes, and he finally breaks his silence. Voice gruff, he asks, “You okay?”

“No,” you say. By the look Karkat gives you, it was the wrong answer. You can’t bring yourself to give a shit.

Karkat had let you use his phone as you waited in line to get your boarding pass. You called John and told him that you’re coming home - you didn’t even finish asking if he’d pick you up when he said that he’d be waiting at the baggage claim for you. You told him that you don’t have any bags, and he let out this weird half-laugh, half-choking-sob noise that you graciously ignored. He’ll be waiting for you outside the terminal, then.

You didn't call your parents. You realize that it’s a little cruel of you, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to talk to them yet. The plane ride will give you some time to process things, at least.

When Terezi comes back, she’s holding two bags of food. You catch sight of her own boarding pass sticking out of her pocket, and you can’t help but grin.

You take the food from her outstretched hand. “You just can’t get away from me, can you, Pyrope?”

Terezi looks scandalized. “I have to make sure you get back safely!”

You stand up, and Karkat follows. You walk in the general direction of your gate - boarding doesn’t start for another hour, so you’re not in a hurry.

Eventually, Karkat slows down until he comes to a stop altogether.

“I guess I’ll leave,” he says, awkward. Not having a sickle to hold, he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

He turns to leave, but Terezi stops him with a hand to his shoulder. “Thank you, Karkat,” she says gravely. “I mean it.”

“Whatever,” he says, pushing her hand off. He makes to leave, hesitates, and then turns back to Terezi to give her a quick hug. Terezi has just enough time to hug him back before he turns away.

“Bye, asshole,” you say. He flips you off.

* * *

There are plenty of rules when it comes to airplanes - all kinds of regulations about what to do and what not to do - but there are plenty of unspoken things to keep in mind. You’ve only been on an airplane like, twice, but you’re not an idiot.

You know you’re not supposed to kick the seat in front of you or talk to the person next to you if they have earphones in. You also know that ginger ale tastes better when you’re thousands of feet in the air, and that airplane cheese is never good cheese.

Terezi gets airplane cheese. You warn her against it, but she doesn’t listen - probably just to spite you, too. You saw her eat raw beef, for Christ’s sake. You doubt she has much interest in cheese.

Soon after she takes a bite, she’s reaching for your ginger ale to wash down the taste.

“That’s not good!” she tells you.

“It’s never good,” you say, solemn. You hold out your miniscule package of peanuts and she takes a couple gratefully.

You thought you’d be able to sleep on the plane, but that plan went out the window as soon as you found out that Terezi was traveling with you. She’s offering you conversation semi-freely now; whether it be because she trusts and likes you or because she feels bad about the whole abducting you thing or both, you don’t care. You’re not about to pass up the opportunity.

“Who’s _your_ favorite actor, then?” she’s asking you, and you don’t have to think long about it.

“Nicolas Cage.”

Her face scrunches up in something akin to disgust. “I can’t believe you just said that to me!”

You’re sitting in the window seat, with Terezi in the middle - probably another phase of her multi-step apology. The woman next to her put earphones in about fifteen minutes into the flight, no doubt irritated with your and Terezi’s incessant talking.

Every once in a while, the woman - old and human - bursts into a violent fit of coughs, just barely reaching her hand up to cover her mouth. Terezi grimaces every time, and you don’t bother stifling your laugh.

“You asked me who my favorite actor is,” you say. “Do you want me to lie?”

“I want you to have better taste in actors,” she says, and you roll your eyes.

“How would you know? It’s not like you can watch movies!”

“Why am I flying back with you again?”

“Because you feel bad for taking me away from my home and almost giving me away to my ancestor for money,” you respond. You’re mostly joking, but neither of you can deny the slight bitterness in your tone.

Terezi probably wasn’t looking for an actual answer, if her guilty expression is any indication. “I  _am_  sorry, Vriska.”

“I know,” you say, because you do. Your words are stilted - it’s not easy for you to be this sincere. “I’m kind of still pissed about it, but I think I have it in me to forgive you. I think I can understand where you were coming from.”

“I’m not sure where I was  _coming from_  was a good place,” she admits. “I was striving to be an ideal bounty hunter, thinking that it translated into being a good person.”

You take a moment to digest her words. Then, you ask, “You’re giving up on bounty hunting?”

She swallows and turns her head away from you, facing the seat in front of her. “Yes.”

You watch her. You ask, “Are you scared?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

She still faces forward. “I am a little...scared,” she admits. “It’s all I know.”

“You’ll do great at whatever you want to do,” you say, and you mean it. You pause before asking, “Which is what, exactly?”

“I have no idea.”

You suggest, with more confidence than you feel, “Maybe I could help you figure it out?”

She turns her head toward you, then. “You know,” she says, “I came with you out of more than just guilt.”

You swallow and glance down at her lips. Then you remember what happened last time.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask. You hate how small your voice sounds, but you suppose you’re just going to have to accept that Terezi has that effect on you.

“Well,” Terezi responds, pretending to mull it over, “I  _guess_!”

You make it halfway to Terezi before the woman next to her bursts into another fit of phlegmy coughs. You close your eyes, and you can practically feel the vein in your forehead pop away from your temple as you clench your teeth.

Terezi cackles and sits back in her seat.

You let out a sigh through your nose. “Maybe later,” you suggest.

She tilts her head at you and grins with her pointed teeth. “Later,” she says, and it sounds like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thanks to everyone for reading. You can catch me @ dreamerofderse.tumblr.com


End file.
